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misstree
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i don't know why i'm writing except that
it seems i need to get drunk to tell you certain things
and it feels sometimes like there's sometimes this
silence between us, and it sticks in my throat
and makes me want to run and hide
from how much i don't want to run or hide
and i feel for some reason that
i should be the ultimate example of independence,
and it's erased the line between "i need you" and
"i can do without, but it wouldn't be near as nice"
and it makes me think that if i admit anything
you'll smile politely and pat me on the head
and start looking for your cue to exit stage left
and so i strangle all these smiles
for fear that you might see them
and it's just such a bad thing to do
to such innocent and joyous things
and at any rate
if i really were ultimately independent,
i wouldn't care what you thought,
and so it wouldn't take whiskey and a quiet house
to dislodge things from my throat like:
i can do without, but you make me so very happy
and
when i cry, it's because i want to say "love",
but the word doesn't mean anything
and i don't know how to explain
and
i wish we were drunk together
so i could look into your eyes while i admit
such silly little things, and just for a moment,
you would glow, and it would be okay,
and i wouldn't worry about being
too much of a sap, or too cold,
i would just be okay
with myself
with you.
i don't really know why i'm writing,
because you'll never see these whiskey words
and they'll never bring me comfort
but it makes a good distraction
from the chill of being alone
for one too many drunken nights.
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080929
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