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Bear With Me
What do you mean you’ll give it a chance?
Is this a plan
to establish
Feelings that can never be?
What about me?
How I feel about you?
Not to be rude,
I still love you true,
but you seem to bring the color blue
to my room when my thoughts turn to who
should be the groom.
In the future image I see a frame
hanging in the hall of a house,
with a white picket fence with a name
on the mailbox.
I put a padlock
on my heart so maybe you can’t fill it
with the poison that keeps me living.
I detox
from your toxic love
that you keep at an arm’s length from me,
to keep my sanity
in check when I put a stamp on the envelope
and sent it out with yesterday’s paper.
I seem to waver
in my passion
so one moment’s dream
is another’s distraction.
Maybe to rip my mind from the reaction
I get when I cause myself yet another infraction.
Do I want to be your forever?
Well I never gave an answer.
And I’m not ready for
yes sir
and no sir
and this emotional roller-coaster
that is first kisses
and first misses
and an arm around my shoulder
might make me bolder
or weak in the knees.
I don’t know, this all seems like a dream.
One day I hate you,
the next day I wanna date you
and now the chance comes and I jump at the opportunity
to make myself look stupid.
Why would I choose
to play a hand I know is losing?
I can’t say I know everything
I don’t even know anything
but this is my calling
and I don’t have call waiting
so bear with me.
Make some memories with me.
Why does the sunset over the mountains
look like the fire over a burning coffin?
I stand at the shore of eternity
and the nonexistent concept of emotional maturity,
so why on the street over the freeway am I feeling destined to jump?
The time of my life
conflicts with the time
I lose my mind.
What if I find love and lose my ability to feel it?
Will it still feel real
if my senses are numbed to ignorance’s appeal?
The role
I stole
doesn’t feel
like a steal
it feels more like a wall
and I am the drill.
So tell me I’m beautiful and I might believe you,
but tell me I’m perfect and I just might leave you.
So sew your lace onto a paper valentine
and be mine or someone else’s.
Leave it to you now to decide.
Who am I to determine my destiny
when I’d rather hide?
So bear with me.
This is my first time.
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This is slam poetry about a relationship that never happened. We all have firsts, and this was a first that got away.