thanks to the basketful of maybe's
i collected
when we were one
it would seem
i'd be well equipped to deal
with the next one's indecisiveness

oh well.

i smiled .

i found it funny
that I made all the sense to him in the beginning

but now
i've blinded him
with all that is wrong with me .

The second time

was at a celebration of souls
where creesed-up eye lids were adorned
with laughter and teeth confettied all around
i
in the midst of the vibe
had my mouth open in accordance with the dance of laughter
when your scent found my tongue
through conversations, amplified throat vibrations
it took a while to savour you flavour
for me to feel

"oh
its you again. "

i tried to spit you out like I do with the rest of them
but I didn't.
i couldn't.
you seeped into my conscious, strongheld my reasoning
and I still don't know who you are
what you are
how you are doing this
i'm just left blinded to everyone
and focused on feeling you

The first time

was when I was walking down the street
alone
filtering through my thoughts, like I do
minding my own business, like I do
when your scent found my nose
through
street sewages & the dancing of the
trees,
wind
it jolted me, disturbed my personal missions
after which I turned around
in hopes that I would find you around me
so I could confront you face-to-face
instead, I was left to tilt my nose up at a degree lesser than my dignity
as I tried to follow the trail of your scent back to where it came from
only to get lost  .

the Truth

its with kind regards
that you've been asked to avail yourself
excuse yourself
from our crying festivals and internal ridicules of should-have's,
to make an honest revelation of yourself.
i'd understand if you've gotten lost along the way
or forgotten the directions;
its been a while since your presence was requested
its just that right now
i’d really appreciate your attendance to the vulnerability.

i know you’ve noticed
i’ve conversed with tribes opposite to you long enough
i’ve testified against your whispers.
yes, its done nothing
but heighten my complexities and insecurities,
and disrupt my rhythm.
the rhythm I thought I could dance to on my own
without you taking the lead
or setting the record straight.
i’m sorry:
the times I stood you up
the unwanted plus one’s
the cancelled reservations,
but know that this one here
is just you and i
a table for two
and a serving of unseasoned confessions.

let me know when you can make it. . .