You

This takes as much effort writing as it takes thinking it neuro impulses to coherent thoughts in alphabetical words to hand movement to pen through ink on paper because over all  these impulses reiterated again is the decision, the conscious thought of letting go and that drives metaphorical daggers  into my heart. Everything just becomes  that much more dramatic when it comes to you.

Sometimes I like to rant And that’s okay Sometimes I like to cocoon and slowly Break Inside and that is okay too But you. You come along and show me that I don’t need to That all of this could change And then you sweep past like a wispy scent of perfume destined to leave. This. This is not okay.

You were lost in translation darling From that of a monstrosity of a child To the shy person that you have become Hiding all your colors behind That veil you like to call Sincerity And I like to call Discomfort.