I shouldn't write you anymore. I run the risk of being heavy, maybe even desperate?
No, I don't believe that.
It's just that I hear voices that I can't shut up if I don't write them. Maybe that's why this poem never sees the flash of your eyes. Staying parked Like a dirty paper between the edges of a forgotten drawer.
Sometimes I think that I should stop writing this nonsense. But my voice rises and never shut up. It echoes in the walls of my mind and it will be that something has to tell me.
It will be that I want to discover what afflicts you, why you told me that you feel locked up and I would like to see if I could help you free yourself. Get you out of a dream to promise you a different one without me knowing if I would be willing to keep all my promises. And I never know if I am because I guess I never know what I am going to find or know what to expect others to want from me when in reality, I do not want anyone to expect anything. That is why I suffer from a fucking strange strange disease, fucking chronic and fucking without remedy.
You seem to be partly to blame.
You are because because of you I write these garbage and I can't stop typing and when I stop doing it I want to do it again and when I finally give up I start thinking about you again and when I reread what I write then I want to throw it away and when I don't throw it away I finally get to love him. Because I don't know what would become of me if this text ceases to exist and that is how it ceases to be garbage to become an indivisible piece of my life.
That's why I feel like you're a muse and I accompany you everywhere when I can, enduring feeling like a jerk sometimes. But it does not matter.
This is my confession:
I just want to see you.
And I don't want to see you because I want to think that I really like you and I don't want to think that I can overcome my fear of falling in love again.
And still I just want to look at you.