Freefall.

Shit.
I swore up and down that I really wouldn't do this again,
But here I am, up late at night,
Writing you poetry
That you'll make me read you later.
I think you might have found out how
Honest I get,
Even though I'm still trying to hide behind
Metaphors and anecdotal prose.
Well,
Go Fuck yourself.
You're pretty,
But go Fuck yourself.
I'm still trying to figure out how you did it.
You keep me on the phone for hours,
Talking to me about everything under the sun.
And I'm pretty sure the fact that I hang on many, if not all of your words, gives me away.
I'm trying to behave myself,
But somehow I know you can see right through me
And let's be honest here,
It scares the fuck out of both of us.
You, reformed bad boy,
Devil may care attitude
Me, sweet on the outside,
Hellfire on the inside
And we're pretending.
We're playing the waiting game because we made a promise.
I'm not saying we shouldn't,
Because we definitely should
What I'm saying is I wonder
If you wrote a song about me.
If you wake up in the middle of the night and think about
What it would be like to wake up next to me.
I wonder
If you think about holding my hand
Or if you think about what it would be like
To know you had all of me.
I sat and thought about the fact that you might go.
And you don't want to hurt anyone
And you really care about how I feel.
But I wondered,
If that happens,
Would I be upset because you had to go,
Or would I be upset that I never gave you these parts of me?
I'm still not quite sure how to answer that question.
Because I'm starting to get the feeling I don't get to have a say.
We can change the subject or I can stumble over my words but the truth is..
The truth is...
I'm starting to feel my feet slip
And I know the ledge is right behind me.

Pretty.

Tell me I'm pretty.
You are man of many words
And I love to listen to all of them
But there's a lot you don't say.
You ask me all the time
If I'm ok,
How I'm feeling,
How I am.
And you're actually interested in those things but
I sometimes wonder if you're trying to read between the lines.
So my suggestion here is to read between these lines,
These verses
these stanzas,
Read between them.
Read them like I read you.
You're everything I didn't ask for.
I was just giving up again on finding someone to
Understand me.
Someone who was who they said they were
Someone who I had that momentary flash of connection with.
I was so pissed and disappointed the night you bumped into me I actually forgave you for not calling me as I was giving you my number.
I didn't think you would and that
Really,
It didn't matter. I was never going to see you again.
Right?
Just like,
That time we were just going to hang out and watch shows on tv that first night, but instead ended up naked and free and alive in your bed.
Just like
I was never going to stay the night at your house
Just like I said you couldn't come over
And then like.. now.
Tell me I'm pretty.
Because when you tell me I'm pretty I hear you say something else entirely.
I hear you say all the things you can't say. I hear you say all the things you might not ever say and it's
A really good thing you don't tell me I'm pretty often because otherwise I'm pretty sure
Pretty would lose meaning
And I don't ever want to be anything less than pretty
To you.
And I shouldn't have to apologize for being pretty.
Because I know you think I'm pretty.
And I think you're pretty too.