don't blow it

Sun, 11/01/2015 - 22:15 -- kpotter

you have too much heart, and i don’t have enough stars in my eyes,

and i'm afraid of loving you, because love comes in different kinds.

and i fear the way you smile at me, the way that you laugh,

of your hair when you wake up, and i choke, and i gasp -

 

- for air, ever desperate, for heart and for truth;

because these doubts that i have are all very uncouth;

because my doubts are all undeserving of you;

because my Dreams all whisper "don't blow it."

 

do i love you? do i love you? absolutely, i love you.

but it may not be in the right way, because i don't want to own you.

i don't want you to own me either, though i've been told that i should.

we were friends first, but was that change good?

 

did we do something wrong? is this not how it goes?

in my dreams, your bones leak and you don't have a nose.

and your mouth! how it screams, as your lips search for mine,

and you taste of my chapstick, and bile and brine.

 

i like that you like me; i like liking you.

i only wish that i could tell you the truth:

that i’m terrified of you, but not of you, really;

i’m scared to give you power to me.

 

if my heart is a lock, are you meant to unlock it?

but your heart is so different, and your key may not fit.

if my heart is a lock, why shouldn’t i have the key?

falling in love shouldn’t feel like surrender.

 

did we mess something up? did we do this all wrong?

you help me, support me; you make me feel strong.

but i can't feel myself falling; there's some stipulations,

and i am afraid of my own heart palpitations.

 

you’re not perfect, and i’m not perfect, but i sure like you tons.

i like that you crack your knuckles and grin when you’re done.

i like that you think that the piano is fun,

and you make salty omelets, but you say awful puns.

 

i've never done this before, but then neither have you.

this feeling of liking someone is entirely new.

i honestly can't tell what my dreams are all of;

we are two queer kids, and maybe we are in love.

This poem is about: 
Me

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