REDUCED TO NUMBERS
1: I’M VERY GLAD WE AREN’T FRIENDS,
and I hope you’re finally getting vulnerable,
steering into that unease that would always creep up in our conversations.
I hope you’re okay out there.
Sometimes I stumble on your flaws and opinions in my daily interactions,
like loose change, or old stuff you forgot at mine.
I worry about you.
2: YOU WERE SORTA COOL (DIMINISHING AS EACH NEW DETAIL GOES BY).
there seemed to be Something there, but never Enough to sort through the complications or necessary efforts.
I mourn the outpouring of conversation and tenderness that fell together so…simply? That I didn’t know how I felt or even the person you are,
the only thing I knew was that I wanted to continue the conversation;
I just knew I wanted to keep talking.
I always wonder if it’s something I did, if Iwasn’t a good recipient of the nice words you were hesitant to say in the first place,
or if there was never that much weight in each sweetness to begin with
we’ve ebbed and flowed so much that either end of the spectrum feels no different to me
You’re so reserved.
and while I understand, I need someone who knows, and someone I know about. You need to feel safe enough to be sure about someone and I need to be reassured by someone who is sure about me.
You’re such a prime example of a missed connection.
I’m realizing that…to have to think about it like this tells me this isn’t natural, or happening as easily and at some level it has to be easy.
I’ve been so effortlessly flirty before,
(i didn’t have to try // you just know at a certain point, on both ends). Even for lesser guys, the attraction and vibe just poured out of me, I didn’t have to extenuate anything, I didn’t have to curate any behaviors to express interest. I didn’t have to analyze.
But honestly, this stopped being fun a long time ago.
“cant keep up a conversation, can’t nobody read you”
looooooooooool, honestly I don’t care how interesting or fun it is when we talk, if you aren’t active, if you aren’t excited, ignited, and certain about me,
if you aren’t making The Effort and going first sometimes,
it doesn’t matter how different you seemed to be, you’re still just another scrub who just doesn’t get it.
There will be no convincing involved.
o v e r i t
o v e r y o u
3: SOMETIMES I WATCH YOU TALK ABOUT HER AND I QUESTION WHAT IT IS YOU FEEL FOR IT EXACTLY,
I wonder if what you two are is what you really wanted.
Wonder how much of it is for the projections of her (and my head Ive called you out on just soaking up her image in one Good, long rant)
how you’re more caught up in them than in seeing her for the selfishness behind the smoke and mirrors.
and while i dont want to be with you either,
how I know we could only ever find awkwardness and convenience
in each other, I still wonder about the deeper, softer layers of you that only ever comes out in implications, in shifts of tones, in this look in your eye
“the picture is off with the sound”
And this is a final farewell.
“let’s be grateful for all the things that never were”