I’m scrambling for something I don’t even want
I’m being selfish and spreading myself towards thin.
Your awkwardness isn’t the answer but it’s filling a void I was keen to keep open prior to these late night sways and long look stays. I shouldn’t be jerking you around because in the long run I’ll be the one painted as the jerk.
When I run away, when I take it just far enough, I’ll stop short before I jump and look at you blankly.
Lets not hold hands anymore; it’s too much to look at you when you’re not looking. Lets not stay up too late anymore to find nothing there in the morning.
I’m already sorry before it has even started.
Phantom music plays on.
Phantom figures in the dust.
Incessant buzzing and I can’t find the bees or sweet honey.
I’ve stopped looking to myself for solace; the cracks and rust in my armor are becoming more and more apparent and obvious.
I know it looks like a way in, I know it looks good and solid from where you sit, where you lie with your eyes closed but its not its broken and breaking.
I just want to lie in warm arms a bit longer to regain my strength.
The trade off however might be your heart but I’d rather yours than mine.