The poem I found in a drawer.

This was written about three and a half years ago (I think) for a man who absolutely did not deserve me. Still, I learned a valuable lesson. There’s more to that story… but you’ll have to check out February’s Brock Street Burner for that! But, for now, enjoy my past-life foolishness.

(Ever so slightly edited because my first stanza was BAD. Not gonna lie, I love the last one though)

I’d have to be crazy, wouldn’t I?

To think this could work,

that you might actually want me.

A little dense to believe you would fall for me.

A little unhinged, a little unstable,

heart so worn but still perfectly able.

A little exhausted, a little forlorn.

Loved so deeply, now I’m torn.

Should I give up—do what I always do?

Tell myself I know what’s best for you.

It isn’t me, it could never be.

But what about you?

Something in you has always spoken to me.

Something in your smile, your laugh.

Something in the way you don’t hold back…

Or do you?

All these years it never seemed it could be

anything more than just a dream.

That small sign, the tiniest clue.

I was always reading too much into you…

Or was I?

Perhaps it’s time to break down my walls.

To see where all the pieces land,

to watch them fall.

If not now, then I think never at all.