If I ever push you away,
I don’t really mean to.
When I tell you I don’t want to talk about it,
I do, I am just looking for the right words.
Give me a minute;
if I can tell you, I will.
I am struggling to be a mix of real
and compassionate at the same time.
At the moment,
I am working on a balance.
When I get quiet sometimes
it is because I have too much to say
or nothing to say at all.
I have thought of too many things to tell you
and I don’t know what to say first.
I get immaturely jealous of anyone
who gets to see you on a daily basis.
I miss you really easily.
but I also like that we can be
a p a r t
and we are both okay.
space is good, too.
I love the way
we love some of the same things.
I love how
we love entirely different things.
is a complicated pile of
this tangled up nostalgia for the past,
I am flawed,
I am a human.
I am broken,
I am trying.
I am one person,
I am one heart.