Let me crib.
Let me complain
and let me regret it,
and say again and again
that I never meant a word that you found mean.
I am unusually irresponsible.
I have a ledger
filled with all that I must truly care for.
I only forget to look at it
and act on it.
Even if I am not actually a cold person
I won’t mind it if you describe me so.
I will brush it off
and probably fashion a passive-hatred for you
from all that I act doesn’t bother me.
When it all gets out of my head
and burns your heart,
I will let you crib.
I will let you complain.
and when you say again and again
that you never meant a word that I found mean,
I will believe you.
I hope that will be enough for us to last
longer that the time we could ever predict
if we let each other be mean sometimes, get hurt,
create a drama and forget it when it’s the other’s
turn to loose the mess in mind.
The tears in my hands
slowly loose the tint of sorrow.
The sorrow that I thought
would live longer than me.
It loses its color,
it loses its pain.
It becomes water-
pure, simple, and necessary.
for a new and better life
to exist and survive.
I want to stay away from people,
who I once called friends,
(I think they never called me that)
and I have doubts on what I feel.
I am suffering from an unexplained aversion
to human relation and condition.
My efforts are spent
in avoiding people and small talks.
I spend my days
thinking, “What is wrong with me?’,
knowing that these feeling are weird
and still not finding something wrong
where there should be soomething wrong.
In the brief moments when I am reminded
of once dear faces,
I feel an ache,
a feeling that I have been let down,
I have been betrayed by everyone,
I have been wronged.
I am no longer myself.
I am somewhere where
I have lost sense of myself and others.
Even though you miss me,
even though you love me,
please don’t try to bring me back.