I go back to wondering if I said something wrong
Or uninteresting, or less profound,
Something undeserving of a response or anything,
I wonder and I,
I realize what this is.

I go back here feeling anxious,
Drum beating in my chest, my ears hot,
Face flushed, and I don’t know why,
Until I do,
And I realize what this is.

And for a moment I consider the possibilities,
The what if’s, the could be’s,
The truth that it may possibly happen,
If I let it happen,
And I don’t know if I don’t want it to happen.

My heart aches and I am scared and I smile foolishly,
And chastise myself from this folly,
I don’t know.

Me Importa

My god, I actually care.

But I cannot,
I must not,
Because I don’t even understand myself–
I am dead, I have nowhere to go,
I am stuck in a leisurely pace,
I have nowhere to go.

But I–
I don’t know,
I’m not supposed to say this,
Not allowed to feel this.

But god, I do care,
I do care about you.

But I cannot,
I must not,
Because I am nothing—
And you have so much to go,
So far to go.

And I am a dead weight.
With no plans, no dreams, no future,
Just a lurker in the present.

My god, I do care,
But I can’t.

It pains,
To want but cannot,
A self-imposed rule, I should say,
But a rule nonetheless.

To hurt no one
By being unhappy.

But my god,
Do I care.