it's late

Fri, 01/15/2016 - 00:53 -- kpotter

i wish there’s someway i could tell you

about not being able to sleep.

i want you to view me with virtue;

i want your opinions to keep.

 

so i can’t tell you of what i’m dreaming,

because i am not dreaming of you.

my thoughts are just thoughts, but its seeming

that my thoughts are becoming the truth.

 

i want you to be there beside me

so that you can be there when i wake.

because eight out of ten,

i’m screaming again,

and you always help me feel okay.

 

i wish there’s someway i could tell you

about the things my mom says to me.

but i don’t want you to hear them and think that they’re true;

i don’t want you to agree.

 

so i can’t tell you of what she says,

because the person she describes is me.

i still want you to think i’m the best;

you can’t know that in truth, i’m ugly.

 

i want you to be there beside me

so that i don’t have to mourn all alone.

because you calm me down

without making a sound,

and that silent salvation means home.

 

i wish there’s someway i could tell you

that i’m terrified to want this from us.

come talk to me, honey; my darling, please do;

come here and be someone to trust.

 

but i can’t tell you that; i know better.

a needy brat, i know, but i’m wise.

i know that the words wouldn’t be worth the letter,

but they’d still pluck the stars from your eyes.

 

i want you to want to listen

so that i don’t have to ask you for aid.

and i know that you would;

that should make me feel good!

but instead, it just makes me afraid.

This poem is about: 
Me

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