The Song Jay

My mind sits to pick apart 

The every obsession and element, 

This man takes over in my life. 

I eat up his TV SHOW, 

And say it's good for me. 

Compliments slip...

And I can't tell what he wants from me or what they mean. 

I try to take time for myself, 

Especially when he enters my life. 

Because love becomes with him, 

An eternal waiting game. 

And the air, grows a chill, 

Like this time last year... Close to when he reappeared. 

And I have grown a distance more internal as I am suck back into myself, 

Processing, 

Processing, 

Processing. 

His words are turned over, everything I can remember. 

Cruelty, spun in non-threatening manners, 

'Til, I am crying and another year has passed, 

Of disregard and loose tongue's that ought rather to be sown shut

He, is a man, I love stupidly...

As though to do so 

Disregards any love this thing, myself, 

Ought to have turned inwards. 

Nevertheless, 

To love him not seems far harder a fight than to love him as relentlessly as I do. 

And yet, to be anywhere near him, 

Seems a fight too. 

And it is a joke, I think; cosmically for and not against me...

As I endeavor to sit, and pick 

Apart what had happened to me, 

Since he has entered here. 

Who have I become? 

What does it mean to love? 

What are expectations? 

What are mine? And his???

I laid in bed, 

Attempting to let the words sink; 

Wanting them too. 

"You need to let me go, Ariel. I'm an asshole". 

They bobbed there instead on the surface. I felt the way my mother's eyes look when I have said something over her head- everything in his sentence, 

Was over my head. 

They bobbed there, 

And I laid there, 

And from nothing, tears spilled, rolling down my cheek. 

What could I say to a truth I knew was right, but could not understand? 

And he laughed. 

And I loved him more, like some sick joke. 

And he is always gone, 

Where all I want is the company of his heart; a thing he claims to be poisoned and rotted away; 

His words echo, echo...

"Clown"

"Bitch" 

And his slipping slow changing tone as he uttered 

"I don't want to hurt you"...

Because I could feel he meant it. 

FEEL it..

I could FEEL...it. 

The love, there somewhere. 

And the sad truth, 

That he would. 

He knows he will...

And he always has. 

Still, 

Call me crazy, 

It has been three years, 

And we have come this far. 

Far enough for him to show me kindness, a softitude, 

Where before there was nothing. 

Still...

Loving people like him, 

You never know which part of what they show is real. And even when you think you do, 

They may try to trick you; anything to win the hand at power. 

He doesn't see he has been playing chess with a mere bird. 

What power could he possibly need to wield over me, this life of mine. 

Simple. Just here for the company. 

Needing only that, and a finger or two.