Fool
You want to be friends
but, I want to be something that you’ve never experienced
in grade school sleepovers
and freshman cliques.
I want to pull out chairs, where you sit,
hold doors when you cross rooms
and take your dishes to the sink.
I want to be white and chivalrous
while you walk,
warm, attentive and there, while you dream.
I want to hold you with two folded arms and unblinking eyes.
I want to infiltrate the sorrows of your life
and build castles over the brimstone of doubt.
I want to be yours,
without the boundary of a single word
and regardless of what people think is right.
I want to reclaim my second hand emotions
and make you feel like you were the first,
but you just want another name on your buddy list
when you are bored.
You want small talk
while I suppress all this
and toil with steaming the envelope.
You are collected and cool,
keeping your thoughts as they come
while I stumble over eggshells
and roll my tongue back towards my throat.
You want to be friends,
so you cannot possibly, realize the scope
of what I have to lose
just because I hope for more…
like a damn
fool.
