I never understood why you liked me.
You’re the kind of person who enters
a room in a bid to light it up, while I like to
sit in the dark, shying away from any
kind of spotlight, and you speak with the
ease of someone who’s seen enough to
understand how conversation goes while
I stutter and stammer, getting tongue
tied about the simplest of things; why did
you choose me? How did you decide
that the best companion of them all was
someone who is barely keeping it together?
Or is the truth just that you don’t know?
I like to think of us as something that’s
never truly been shattered but that’s a lie-
the cracks of our past still prick me now and
then. I like to think of you as an integral
part of my life, but you were drowning
and I didn’t even realise, didn’t even flinch.
So maybe the truth is much simpler than
a convoluted reason for this crush, maybe
the truth is one that you still haven’t found out;
crazy looks best in small doses after all,
so who am I to question this infatuation
when the truth is you don’t even know
what you’re getting into.