I'm trying not to tell you, but I want to.

Sometimes, I'm too scared of my emotions to meet them head on via paragraph text. So, instead, I write poetry just to get it out into the air, while hoping that whoever it's written about doesn't understand the meaning behind the poems. These are feeble wishes (I think I have my dad syndrome: he thinks nobody ever understands when he's talking about something relating to poop in public, but it's always too obvious). Here, I will give you the hint that I am not referring to poop. I'm sure you'll figure that out on your own, though:

I breathe in.

My eyes close.

I see your eyes glowing

At me

From across a dark room.

I’m dying inside

Secrets never were

Easy for me to keep.

Nerves—

Fear.

I would do anything

Just to sit next to you

For hours.

My eyes open

Was I holding my breath?

My stomach clenches:

Cold

When I think of the emotion

That is not

In your head.

What are my motives?

I second guess myself too much.

Inhale, Exhale.

Just to touch you would be

Sigh.

As a bit of a side note, I wanted to add how self-defeating I can be at times. Lately, I've found myself quite lonely. Quite lonely = missing Robert for some odd reason. I think this is because I spent a year and a half of my life with him. Nevertheless, I keep getting these disgusting little reminders of our life together, and it kills me a little every single time. I know my decision to leave him was a good one; but I can't help a few weak moments. Tonight, I sit here and reflect on the loneliness I brought upon myself. I wonder if it really is worth it. I wonder if this brave little quest of mine was such a good idea. I wonder if there really is someone out there better for me. Every now and then, I look in the mirror and wonder who on earth could love this face (save my mother--that's a whole different story). I'm prone to this type of stuff, but it never keeps it from hurting.