what am i doing?
i can't remember if this is real
nothing's seemed real since however long ago
nothing's been the same and i liked it
i was giddy with it
except gifts this big make me scared of
failing you, falling for you,
frowning at you, fucking you up
good things don't just happen to people like me.
i'm finding our truths
in the way everything's a lie
can you hear me?
can you see me?
i want to leave
can'tstaycan'tstaycan'tstay
what's keeping me,
aside from everything?
even i know i'm not going to be the one to leave
[or is that just fear talking?]
but you've got 'lovingly' scribbled all over
your eyes tonight so
this is enough for now
this is enough for now.
Author notes
Um...yeah...
Now that I've actually written this down I don't feel nearly as strongly as the poem does. It's funny how that works. I'd write down really emo poems, feel better, post them, make everyone worry and realized that this is what journals are for...oh, bother. Whatever.
I dunno. I kinda like this one...not really...
Why am I even posting this? Grr. But of course I can never not post something I've typed in that dumb little box if it's all finished-ful. Sigh. So here it is. Bleck.
Conflicted-ful-ness...
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Another great poem written by you!
Well, I guess I can relate to your poem quite a bit. I mean, I have a friend, a guy friend that lives next door to me and we usually hang out. And we get along pretty well, but it's just that for me, it seems too good to be true, because all of my guy friends eventually stop hanging out with me, and now I'm sort of scared I'll screw up once again and he won't hang out with me. I mean, I don't like him as more than as a friend, but it's easier for me to talk with him and open up to him than to other friends of mine and I don't want to screw that up. I have periods I sort of don't want to hang out with him because I'm afraid I'll say something wrong, but then when he asks me to hang out with him, I go anyways. Anyways, I really love your poem and I am glad you don't feel as strongly as you felt when you wrote the poem.
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Eeeks! Lily! Tell me these things, ok. We see each other every day!
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