the seesaw, the in-between, the almost
when all I ever think about is leaving
and saying goodbye and giving
way for better things
to fall into place, for here and now
what does that
make me courageous for
facing my fears or
a coward for running away
stay, if you may
for a day or up
only until midnight
oh please keep close
or better yet, just go.
You and my idea of you—I’ve learned they’re two entirely different things.
I don’t even want to try anymore
I could’ve fought for you, you know:
But I was too weak and you
Wouldn’t even let me, just be
Brutally honest you were like always.
Constantly aware of what to do and not to—
if this or that or that or this is better
however strangely put things are, still
You never seem to bend and break until I
do: I know you and quite frankly although
it pains me to see you leave times like these
would be a reminder of moments past, and that’s
what really matters in the end. Yes, knowitall.