Old Blog

kinda want to see

KINDA-WANT-TO-SEE I kinda want to see it… the moment he realizes I’m not what he thought I was. The second after it hits him that he had me all wrong.

I want to bear witness to the moment he decides I’m not worth it. The way recognition of mistake will flash within his eyes. He will remember all the sunrise smiles he wasted on my horizon. All the nights he stood as a brave brilliant moon in my black sky when I had no stars to offer.

He will want his love back but when he asks I know I won’t be able to return it because I’ve got a quicksand heart that empties it’s swallow inside my mariana trench soul. And I’m too afraid of my deep places to be courageous enough to go in after him.

He will tell me that the cracks in my smile are too vast, the edges too sharp, he’s fed up with hurting himself just to be near me. He will say that he’s ready to heal his bloodied bruised knuckles, that he’s been unable to recover when he’s constantly beating at the walls I’ve built. The only dents he makes while attempting are his own.

He will beg me to let go, to not turn him into the man that will be too hardened by his past relationship to love the next one the way she deserves. He will say that he is sorry, he is neither strong nor willing enough to carry the weight of what it means to be with me. And he will hold out his arms, covered in cuts, scratches and scars only he and I can see, not to remind me of what a piece of work I am to hold onto, but to show me that I am a piece of work he was willing to hold onto.

And I will fold into them, press my wet cheek to chest while I try to convince myself I saw this coming, I knew it all along, that he’d out grow his feelings for me. I kinda want to see it, all of it, to prepare myself when it comes. To remember not to get too comfortable when he reaches for me in the middle of the night, or when he whispers in my ear that he loves me. I want to convince myself that his touches and words are lies he doesn’t realize he’s telling.

Sometimes, he catches me searching for those moments within his eyes and he tells me to stop. Stop looking for something that isn’t there and I wonder if he’s right. I wonder if my doubt is the only thing that will build a fire against me in his eyes, but I don’t know how to stop.