I love the idea of you and me.
You fit in places I did not know were missing pieces and parts.
I love the idea of you and me.
But thoughts and fantasies of you scare me back to reality.
I love the idea of you and me.
Your mind whispers to my imagination especially when you are unaware.
I love the idea of you and me.
My mind’s version of you might be better than who you really are.
I love the idea of you and me.
What would be better is if I had a chance to find out.
Love holds me.
Surrounds me.
On either sides of my soul.
Comforted, seen, and heard.
Love holds me.
My good friend warned me about playing with broken toys.
I didn’t listen.
I was too busy examining my time-worn scars wondering if I too was cracked in bits and place.
Embarrassed that I wasn’t perfect and overly friendly I paid humbly my dues.
I stand.
I sit.
I pace.
I wait.
I sit on the edge of my mind’s rumblings.
I skip reluctantly in the spaces I miss as I hurry along to connect stories backwards.
I sit. Again.
I wish for pauses.
I have not moved.
Sometimes my mind works against me.
Sometimes it throws itself against the walls of sanity and makes my head hurt.
Sometimes getting quiet is hard and doing anything right is difficult – the firefly I chase at dusk.
But my mind sometimes loves me. Those days are better.