what bothers me is how there was
never
anything.
what bothers me is how it was
all
one-sided.
what bothers me is how I
never
said
anything.
what bothers me is how I
knew
what would be said in return,
so I couldn't,
couldn't say it.
what bothers me is how I
live in
shadows.
what bothers me is how the
colors
I love so much are not the ones I use to paint my own
life.
what bothers me is the lack of
impact.
am I
anything
more than a wind's
whisper
through grass,
the brush of an apple blossom on
skin?
what bothers me is how I wish
wish
wish
I could smack like a paintball,
leave color,
vibrancy,
feel like I would have no
regrets.
it's the fear.
it's the fear that bothers me.