We Aren't So Different

I'll write a letter to you in my sleep
Maybe I'll send it some day
I want you to know I care, but
I'm afraid I'll scare you away.

We really aren't so different, you and I,
Our raising, similar
Our curiosity, biting
Our skittishness, familiar

No one understands, do they?
Nor do I , I won't claim I do.
But I do know that feeling
Different as it may be - and what comes next

The things I'd say to you,
if I thought you'd listen,
if I thought you'd care.
Sometimes it helps to hear someone else.

I don't even know, though
if this is about you or more
about me and my own insecurities.
I don't know how to help.

Maybe, someday, I'll write you a letter
And send it--only too late.
You'll say, "why didn't you tell me?"
"...I was scared."

This is for You

I updated this for you,
This time around.
I doubt you read this.
I doubt you care.
But this update is dedicated to both of our sanity.
You can talk to us, if you need to
...really.
♥

posted from Bloggeroid

Feeling Boring

What's wrong with me?
Do I shelter myself, still?
Is it because I have high standards and morals?
Am I boring?

Obviously, I'm not boring.
Maybe overly mysterious?
Maybe too hard to know.
Do I need to loosen up some?

Do I hide how boring I am
with how mysterious I appear to be?
Once you break through the mystery,
Maybe there's just a blank expanse.

Well, then.
I suppose I can build on empty;
Paint on a blank canvas;
Create something worth being known for.

Paranoid

I'm only paranoid because I know there are people worse than me.

posted from Bloggeroid

Making New Friends (or lack thereof)

Even with the target picked out,

I do not know how to, metaphorically,

pull the trigger, to just do it,

step up, say- hi, my name is...

What is the secret, the hidden gem,

the talent, no gusto, to just- smile.

Hi.

I think you are fascinating.

The way you do what you do,

say the things the way you say,

you look- like someone interesting.

Hi.

Can we hang out sometime, be friends.

Am I going about this the wrong way,

the way of the wrong kind, what kind.

Who am I, do you find what I have

to be interesting, to be worth your time.

Am I quiet strange a little weird just a little off.

Hi.

Can we- just sit and talk and be chill.

What do you do with whom and when.

Can I come, can I ask, can I do that, too.

Friends?

If I say how I feel,
you'll call me a liar.
If I say I want friends,
you'll wave to yourself.
When I tell you you're not what I'm looking for,
you'll tell me I'm the problem.

Silent Screams

The silent screams
are the most painful of all

Nowhere to go
Nothing that can be said

I cannot make a sound
all is turned inward

Scream, my soul does
Silence, my lips say

My body consumed
in unspoken conflict

Limp, desiring not to be seen
Rigid, longing for escape, freedom

Languid eyes, slowly search
seeking some solace within sight

Nothing, there is, that can ease
this long and loathsome day