Echoes of a damaged soul
She’s sitting on the bed,
Singing her song.
I just can’t help it,
But my heart moves along
And my feet find the beat.
I see your every breath,
Every strum of your fingers
Along the strings, but it’s not the guitar
That I hear, in my heart.
It’s your voice
Echoing in my soul,
As the intricate patterns unravel
And my thoughts travel, to past patterns –
Webs of anxiety, where I am wrapped
In love and soft promises,
That branded my mind –
Marked my heart and left me.
Anxiety
Attraction makes me anxious
Getting pulled in against my will
And I don’t really know how to feel
Is it real, is it real
Or is it the same old spiel
Where I fall for someone and I can’t believe
They would be into me or believe
Our heart beats, the string instruments
Of a living symphony
It’s no Flight of the Bumblebee
Or a composition by Debussy,
No, it is just one exciting anxiety
A funny thing
Two avoidants walk into a room.
Neither one speaks,
Neither one makes a move.
Instead, they embrace each other, and their nature, with feigned yawns,
Strategic stutters, and self-explanatory mutters.
Somehow, somewhat, in some way
One explains in a particular way,
What he wanted to say –
As if it was a birth of words,
With all its contractions,
Contradictions, and a sincere lack of diction and sounds.
At last, he got the words out,
Which is when it became her turn
To try to explain in some way –
A particularly elaborate way –
Far away from each other’s gaze,
What exactly she wanted to say.
Look at them, they’ve come such a long way.
I wonder what someone with a different perspective might say.
“Two avoidants walked into a room.
Neither one speaks.
Neither one leaves,
As they both have a crippling fear of abandonment.”
Us, the looking glass
Crystallise the love to keep it intact.
It’s a frightful transparancy,
To breathe life into a feeling
By giving it a voice,
In your presence.
We’re made of glass, the melted sands
Of all our past failures, victories,
Sins, and the lovers we have been.
Crystallise our love, my dear.
Our hearts are so clear in their desire,
As they burn and shake themselves apart
In an anticipation for past pessimism.
But, oh, the sands of the hourglass keep falling,
Day in, day out,
And I find myself in their midst,
Falling for you.
I want you to know
I kissed you in the snow,
And I didn’t want to go home
To an empty bed.
Hours earlier, we watched the sun set
As I told you stories,
While you rested your head on my chest.
I wonder if you could hear my heart beat,
Mere centimeters from your ear.
I wonder if you could hear it skip a beat
Whenever you laughed, squeezed my arm,
Or poked me in the side.
I wonder if you could hear my stomach
Digest the fact that there seems to be an increase in the amount of butterflies spotted, this week.
What a strange natural phenomenon –
To act on and subsequently reflect on,
Days later when
I kissed you in the snow,
Because I wanted you to know
That these feelings are real
And that this is the way that I feel.
I don’t want anything else,
Or someone new.
When we kissed,
You found me,
And I found you.