Nice Girl, Wrong Place ...

you never cease to
tie my tongue in knots
no matter how many times i map out
exactly what i want to say
when you call.

[never.]

though for three years, our conversations were periods of silence book-ended with "guess what happened to me today."
now
silence makes me wonder if you're thinking what i'm thinking
or worse
if you're regretting ever picking up the phone
in the first place.
i'm trapped.
U-n-I aren't what we was or were.

[i know that.]

but when you say i'll always have a piece of your heart
it sounds like
the way an immature lover
would promise her premature beau that
at age 13
she'll be his forever.
that scares me.
[we used to be in love. but i kind of changed that. so what do i really deserve?
and all these nights that i dream of loving your body the way i used to really don't mean much of anything anymore. i know that, too. but i did wake up kissing my pillow.]

[no, really. i did.]

i'm sorry that things are coming along so slowly.
i'm sorry that i can't be who i said i would.
fuck, i'm sorry i can't say this to your face.
not yet.
maybe next time will be better.

[call me. i miss your laughter.]

---

if anyone can make me crack i swear it's her. our book is closed. well, closed might be too finite, too final. it's more like ... dog-eared, on the second-to-last page. i forced out of myself the difficult words that i didn't think i could say, and - worse - i didn't say them how i wanted to [i told you she can crack me]. her reaction was surprise, mixed with disbelief .. that cold, "i got you, nigga" kind of disbelief that i used to hate. excited, sure. and i know she wants the best. but i couldn't even deliver my own news on my own terms or with any sense of certainty, confidence, or clarity.

even the truth feels like a lie.

[again. isn't that where the breakdown happened the first fucking time?]

will i ever learn how to handle you?