"It's ok, you're fabulous" he replied
I'm not good or fair or lying
and your masochism knows no end
maybe if we wait a while, you might leave
with your knotted handkerchief and your stick
Your sturdy boots marking a path
to something more... predictable.
I'm worried about that, about you staying
locking me away and being too accepting of things
Maybe underneath it all I am trying to make you leave
What will I do then? Cry?
I'll just recall that look on your face
the one you adopt when you dont understand
but you really want to ... have to
and it's not because you need to
but so that you can be as mad as people think.
I listen to your iPod and I know the songs
but I think they are from someone else
and the headphones make my ears itch
Did we ever like the same things?
After years, we know each other
yet we have no clue what the other is thinking
Our osmotic embrace is bland and forgotten
on the doorstep, in pyjamas and pin-striped suits
and all I can think is that one day
you might let them take me away
and I will have nothing to do
but scratch out my soul on hard wooden tables
and sit in a plastic-sponge chair
my legs entwined casually
as all the answers to questions
become vacant looks into psychotic space.
Will you walk away then?
Or still stay and bring me flowers
Your arms laden with comfortable clothes
and pretty things
We could walk in the garden then
I think we might find each other
but we would have to work
and keep busy
Because explaining
will always push us apart.
~ Charlotte Sometimes (SRWB) 2009
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