You

I’m impartial to lukewarm,

and annoyingly cautious, so

I understand that you would test

to try and gauge how I react,

but then I wondered if it was a game,

and wanted desperately to trust.

So, when we climbed the cliff’s tall face,

standing at the edge, I stole a glance,

and envied your decided jumping.

I rebalanced, tried again, but could not

commit.

Stuck on the edge of this earth, caught,

wishing just to be reckless enough to

plummet for my own reasons,

but I keep looking for you,

and I can’t let go.

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Down the Rabbit Hole

I can’t support what you love,
and you can’t support your
claims to love me.

It’s like falling
forever, falling asleep
while falling, and waking up
still set toward nadir,
place of darkness
I so often inhabit.

It’s such a long journey,
I thought you might
try to catch me, break my
descent–you didn’t.
You pushed me away.

I needed you to pull me
from the pit,
and, for a fleeting moment,
seemed you might, but then
your lover called you, you
forgot your vows, and
I  watched your face,
that I had seen
so many times above
my own,
shrink into nothingness,
and fade out of view.

How I longed for you to
love me,
and I loved you so much
more than
I could even love myself,
and you took my affections
and twisted it,
some monster.

I felt the dull knife break
between the columns
of my bleak spine,
painful separation,
yet somehow
somewhat expected.

And though my ego took a dive,
you should know, the betrayal never
hurt as bad as realizing that
the fantasies were better
than our reality ever was.

I wonder back to that
character who looked at
his family and wondered
at what point he would have
to forsake his family,
and look to himself for survival.

At what point
do I save myself?
At what point
do I grow?

When a Professor Tells Me to Make Some Friends

How many times have I been told
I am not “something” enough?
Not quiet enough to hold my tongue.
I have offended so many with
flagrant opinions.

My laugh is too loud, too long,
and annoying, one even told me
it kept us from being friends.
Why be a friend to someone
like that?

I cannot stop thinking enough
to relax, and I have killed
relationships by obsessing.

Some take pity, and when I
become too much, they admit
that they were my friend
because they felt sorry.

Others simply stop talking
and weeks will go by
before I realize that it was
nothing, a friendship of utility
not virtue.

I have long wondered
whether friendship was worth it.
Wishing for friends frivolously,
wandering in alcoves of loneliness,
and why shouldn’t I walk with
broken trust, and bitterness?

Despite this, I hope
and in optimism I’ve found merit.
Where true love is to accept
without expectation, criticism,
or condemnation,
and that understanding
is a lesser task.

Though our numbers are few
we are not one thing, posing
as another, and I have learned
that friendship far surpasses
changing for one person.

When asked why I am so fixated on death

I know
that death is merely a part of life.
A fixed location, steadily awaiting
our eventual arrival across
the swirling fog and seafoam.

Maybe it is because I have never known
life without end, and I have seen so
many final chapters, slipping right out of my arms, fluttering, transcendant.

I would rather hold death,
the lives of those I hold dear,
than pretend there is order
without chaos.