slow down, you're killing me too quickly
Collection 3
Boundaries
so easy
deep down
The Two Things
Jit.
Boundaries
I’d do anything for you and that’s frightening,
When I know you’ve got boundaries for me.
I shake mountains when you strike with your lightning,
But you keep sailing all ‘cross the sea.
I made a habit of following you without question,
Reveling in the thrill of moving further from shore.
And it’s clear I’m not one to learn lessons,
Or I’d have known that there’d never be more.
Yet it’s all my reckless mind can contemplate,
Yearning for an ounce of your affection.
And I’ll voyage through the chills of the Bering Strait,
For a glimpse at your gorgeous complexion.
But I wonder how far your voyage would be for me.
What, if any, would you sacrifice?
Do you see us and our little family,
When you’re picturing your perfect life?
Surely not or you’d already be here.
I’m crafting your statue with my hands out of stone,
And sweating profusely out of both love and fear,
While you’re sailing the seas on your own.
so easy
How does she make it look so easy?
The way she clenches her teeth that hard in her sleep;
The way she eats vegan except for fish meat;
The way she’s so clumsy but always on beat;
The way she pretends to be just friends with me.
How does she make everything look so easy?
The way she’s so slow when the world’s in fast motion;
The way she makes waves while so far from the ocean;
The way she’s so candid but looks like she’s posin’;
She’s got me so deep when she just dipped her toes in.
How can I make it look easy?
deep down
Deep down I know that I don’t want her.
What I want is someone that looks at me the way I look at her.
If she changed her mind, and her touch became attainable, my heart would skip onto the next.
Because it’s the thought of her I’ve become fixated with.
The practice of her, it’s nothing.
The Two Things
She glanced at me over her shoulder, like she does so often when we sit together doing nothing.
She asks me, naively, “What is it you look for in a woman?”
I break eye contact with her, looking down at the table in front of me with a flat lip-sealed grin
and the kind of short chuckle that exists only as one quick puff of air out both nostrils.
It’s so hard knowing your answer will disappoint someone. But it’s even harder for me to lie to
her. I promised her I never would.
“Unfortunately, no woman exists currently with the qualities I’m looking for.”
Annoyed, she rolls her eyes and gives me that look—the one with her mouth slightly open and
her eyes locked back on me, piercing me from beneath furrowed brows.
Sarcastically, she asks, “And what are those elusive qualities that not a single woman
possesses?”
“There’s only two,” I explain, leaning back in my chair, trying to enjoy the delivery as much as I
can before I suffer her wrath.
“The first is that they have to like me. And not just enjoy who I am—they have to be excited to
fall in love with me. I want someone who gets butterflies when they’re reminded of me and
whose hand sweats a little when it touches mine as we stroll through grocery store aisles. I want
someone whose eyes light up when they realize we’re sharing a small moment. We all deserve
that kind of love.”
“You’ve had that!” She exclaims. Frustrated with my recent attitude toward pursuing new
romantic relationships, she continues, “You meet women all the time who look at you like that.
And you complain that it’s too much, that you can’t meet them where they’re at with their
feelings. How does that even make sense?”
“Well, they don’t have that second quality.”
She fires back, “And what’s that?”
I lean forward again in my seat and I look at her. My brows are soft and my eyes are honest,
even though they look like hers. “I need someone who is excited at the thought of being in love
with me. That’s number one. And second, I need that person to be you.”
The air in the room freezes. Everything is still, as it has been so many times before. She’s mad at
him for saying that. They’re both mad at her for asking the question—pretending every day that
she doesn’t know he’s in love.
And when the silence has had enough time to have been fully appreciated, he drops the pen.
“And that’s why I stopped dating. Because I accepted that the woman I’m looking for just
doesn’t exist. And I’m getting used to that idea and I’m becoming okay with it.”
She says this is a lot and she’s going to go home.
The two won’t talk much for the next couple of weeks, agreeing that maybe some space would
be for the best. She can process her feelings about this obvious news, he can reflect on his
insistent urge to keep telling her, and to keep waiting on feelings that will never manifest.
They’ll talk it out, knowing that in their heart of hearts they have little interest in a life without
each other. He’ll apologize and say that wasn’t really him—that wasn’t the best way of
explaining how he feels. But it is how I feel, and with time we will repeat ourselves. Myself
weak, yourself naïve, until we hurt each other beyond repair.
Jit.
I had this idea of the man she wanted.
Of course, the person I trusted more than myself would never settle to Love me.
She'd find someone taller, more handsome.
She'd find someone more intelligent and successful.
She'd find a man with impeccable style and generational talent.
He'd be everything a girl could ever dream of, and humble about it, too.
And then to my Disgust, when she finally settled down with someone,
He was nothing.
The pain of inadequacy turned into
Insult and Fury.
My best friend and confidant didn't want better,
She just didn't want me.
And with that, my Disappointment turned to Hate.
And the only gift I had left to give her was that of silent absence.