investing
i'm too tired for this. it's no secret that i'm not made for short term, for light and easy, for something so, so casual. i need something that i can't help but need. you can be distant and i can't stand distance, because it makes me feel left behind, forgotten, and nonessential. i can't feel replaceable the way i always feel replaceable. you don't know me yet. you haven't seen my scars, or the way i can start fires without wood. i've been used, been abused. i've been expendable my whole life and please, i can't do this again. sometimes i feel it, i really do. a smile, the way you put your head on my shoulder, a lover's coo. but sometimes i don't feel it at all. i don't feel anything, except maybe alone. god knows, i've always been all or nothing, and it's because i'm just not good at anything in between. lukewarm is lackluster and lazy as far as i'm concerned, and it has me feeling room temperature and restless. give me hot or cold any day. and yes, i know i can't ask for a commitment. it's too soon, too heavy a burden. but a deep conversation or a stare that's more than skin deep, it wouldn't hurt. i don't see how it could. really, i'm designed for these kinds of things and honestly, it's something i can't live without. i need to stay up late and speech away the dark. i need to write a poem and watch you feel what i've felt. i need to paint a picture and watch your eyes as you see not just the colors, the concept, or the design, but the process, the searching, the suffering and the struggle. i need to be understood, the same way i need to sketch and research and send questions to pry answers to understand you back. but if it's not worth the effort, or you think you're not up to the task, then you have to let me know. there are other pretty things out there and not enough time to waste. don't get me wrong. right now, i want you. sincerely and truly, i want you and whatever baggage comes with it. i just don't want to start skinning the meat or tearing down the walls if i'm just going to have to build them back up again in a week or a month. it takes too much time, too much effort, too many long nights to fight through and too many old wounds to tend to. but if you're up for it, or just willing to try, then all you have to do is say the word and i'll chip away the black, i'll tear through the notebooks, i'll empty my closet and start a pile, another fucking pile. we can burn it together, my shit and yours. we can watch it glow. just let me know if you're in or your out, because i can't have another love who's peeking their head around the corner or has one foot out the door. i've done it too many times now, and i won't do it again, not if i don't have to. i'm over one way streets but most of all, i'm done with passions that pass and the kind of love that keeps its shoes on at night.