I thought about you today. I thought a lot about you. You evoke feelings in me that I can’t comprehend, feelings that contradict each other. I enjoy feeling this way, and I hate you for making me feel them.
You’ve become a muse, but then I sit to write, and I stare at a blank Word document, thinking of you, but not writing. I reach out to touch your face, I can see it in front of me, but just when I think I’m going to touch your skin, I get air.
I force words about you, pounding into keys with hopes they form the words I feel about you. I stare at your image instead of the screen. The sight of your smile has me punishing the keyboard, my only revenge against the lies I expect you to tell.
I’ve ruined this before it has fully started. Every disappointment I have ever felt is used against you, as I wait for you to do wrong, as I wait for this to end. It’s not fair, and I feel bad for you, for wanting me.
There are some closets you’ll have to open before you gather all the skeletons I’ve tried to hide. You’ll lose before you have the chance to win, and I’ll write you out to be the bad guy, because “He left me and I don’t know why.”
I can see your smile turning into a frown. I can hear your friends tell you, “She’s not the right one.” Maybe they’re right, and I am out of my mind, but maybe you’re out of your mind too. Either way, if you’re in, I’m up for the burden of calling another human being mine.
Candess D. Webster