Once again 4am has become my bestfriend.
When the hour and minute hand meet,
They greet as friends, and that click...
The dreadful sound of seconds passing,
As I think of ways to not think of you.
Overthinking has turned itself inside out;
Pulling my hands from my face and showing me
It's observations and making a mental note
Do I even need to question this?
Should I be questioning this?
When you look in the mirror, and hate what you see...
Am I just that little crack for you to reside in?
My imperfection, to fix yours.
So you feel at peace?
Am I just a coat to keep you warm on days it rains?
When we touch do you feel the same way I do?
Do you think about our fingers?hands?
How cold they are? Maybe too warm?
Maybe questioning roughness?..or softness?
Now of course the answer is "no".
I can spend every minute of everyday thinking,
And thinking,
About all the ways I could try to make it up to you
I don't have enough skin on my body to give- to make everyone else happy.
But I will fucking try!
Because as long as I know that you're asleep and feeling alright,
And that everyone else around me can take a breath,
I'd let myself suffocate and watch my skin scar.
All my life I've been watching the people I care for get hurt...
Because of me.
Feeling their disappointment stares fall to me.
How I'm such a problem to the people around,
And I'm not wanting pity or your apologies.
I just want you to hear mine and take into thought...Or don't.
That I just want you happy even if I'm not that guy.
As much as I will act like I dont care I'm clearly not breathing...
Because I hold my breathe around you.
Not because I have anything to hide,
But because I'm scared of saying the wrong thing...
And watching you leave.
Just like the seconds that passed as you might read this.
Click.
YOU ARE READING
Poems: Gade 12- Present Day
PoetryFrom another guy in the world, to you. Words that aren't spoken, but remain true. I hope you find comfort in my poetry too. A rusted connection to my reality, because honestly. I've lost it.
