Litkicks Message Board Archive

what is wrong with me?

Posted to Action Poetry




has been a question
never difficult
for me to answer.
i lay in bed
wondering about him,
how he tells me
these amazings
and incredibles
and perfects
and i think
i'm gonna fuck this up
because
that's my fucking nature.
to be so good on paper
and so bad in person.
the catch this time,
my dear m.a.s. friend,
is that this one
i don't want to end,
don't want to go away
don't want to lose.

and i'm not sure how that happened.