soliloquy pouring out of me.
uncorked and unbridled.
unfair and untitled.
like works of art yet to be named,
this whole book came spewing out of me,
born of refrain.
how is anyone to discern from my
whether love was actually budding
or even forming?
how odd it must be to hear half-a-heart’s worth
how will anyone know the electricity.
this invisible, visceral, tangible scene.
does it read? does it track? what I’m about to unpack?
has it landed on the right path?
am I crazy to think that feelings are born
of a single moment?
and that being ready for love is
only a small component?
and that even in a short time you can hold it?
that even after being jaded for months,
something can strike you suddenly and you say
I knew my heart was in there.
and when I’m done with this high, will I
arrive to find, that the feelings I vied and
our mutual vibe, are not just self-contained
in this singular rhyme?
will I know the difference between dream and wake?
will I know how long it takes to marinate?
should I wait to say?
do I stay?
do any of the thoughts I have right now track anyway?
and in those moments I wish I had caved.
and confessed to you all the things that I have saved.
and said fuck you to all this convention, and misbehaved.
instead of playing this game where I pretend;
I’d be fully engaged.
I’m totally enslaved
begging to be saved
but there are no paths this way yet paved.
I should have thrown caution to the wind.
three-thousand miles have passed,
what is one more mile laden in sin?
will it pay to remain the same, fearing
I may not again see your face on the break of day.
would it stave the pain away knowing that
you know, I know, that you know,
what I have contained in this heart?
instead of tirelessly inscribing it inside
someone elses art?
probably saying “I have feelings for you”
is a good start.