I admit defeat. I cower at your admission- your heads in a different place - which means YOU DON'T LOVE ME. I could love you forever I think, because I always thought we would be together, when it was right for us. and WE'RE NOT RIGHT. or I'm not. you're in a different place which means THERE'S NO PLACE FOR ME, you wouldn't even fight for me, try for me. I admit defeat and I hate you a million times over because how can I be the best friend I am meant to be to you when my hearts all over the fucking ground in clots of OUR LOST CHILD (and fuck you for never caring that WE had a miscarriage not just me) MY LOST SEXUALITY (i feel like i'm starting over i dont know if im gay or if it was just you and i dont want to deal with that and if i am gay/or not/than everything will now be seen as just a phase) and maybe just fucking maybe OUR LOST FRIENDSHIP.

i love you anyway.

andrew...

you looked so beautiful
untouched
my body wrapped around yours
hoping i could stay
nestled over your right shoulder

with you.

My dear friend,
You take me.
You bring me to asylum
and sew at my edges
with carefully planned words
and a blindfold you carry,
next to your handkerchief.
Used for curving my insight,
a sweet little smile to masquerade in
for a while.


As long as this will hold.


(leave me so I can hate you and forgive you and never decide what is the right choice to make or love me COMPLETE so I can feel there is something more than words between us)

i will listen
between your stutter and pause
i will find reason and i will find
you telling me you love me-
sweeter a tune
than the nightmares
where you cackle towards my candor
i will find myself believing
you could love this.

---------------------------------------

maybe i can convince myself we will be ok.

you don't love me that's why you ignore my messages mixed or otherwise that's why you wont miss when we're gone when this is over you will know you could have had me you had me eating out of your hand leading my head in to stories one of us is making this up or harder the higher we climb i forget how we got here i remember your green tshirt that i might have seen in a photograph and molded you to fill i think this is it. this is all wrong.


------------
i like the fuzzy comfort of the what is the best idea when the best idea is not sleep and a banana to help a chemical inbalance the best idea is dark and words i can only say in my head followed by actions- maybe words i wont think of after sleep. and a banana.