I love you. I crave your smile, your giddy grin. You being here distracts me. It interrupts me. I am a child around you. You can’t know this. It’s too much pressure. But, I am contented. I love you.

Glaring sun, washed out fields of sunflowers. White swirling with yellow. And, there you are, dancing. Showing off. Silence, except you. Your slow movement in silence. Am I dying slowly? I smile slowly.

We sit, in fog, on a bench. It’s cold. A bench for the bus. You lay your head against my shoulder. I touch your wet hair. Now warmth, soft comfort. Our attempt to connect. Addictive. However, we do not merge. We do not fuse. We remain alone.

You’re standing away now. You’ve become closed. I wonder. I worry. And then I anger. My fear is on the table. Bloody, black, sticky fear. Unattractive fear. Now you see my ugly part. And I’m embarrassed. I’ve hidden it. Until now. You brought out my fear. Why are you standing so far away?

We cannot fuse. We try and try and try and try. We crave it. Is this a waste, or is this an impossible craving? You left me, searching to blend with somebody. I swear it’s impossible. Remember the sunflowers? If that didn’t work, nothing could.

1 comment:

L. Alexandra said...

This is one of my favorites, Nate. Raw and emotional but not so abstract that you can't follow it or relate. Ultimately, when I read, I like the words to be relatable. Sometimes that doesn't always work but when it does... it's beautiful. And this is relatable.