Poetry. . . . sort of
I loved the way you touched me,
As no one had before.
I craved your kisses.

But not because they were from you.
I realize that now, when before
I was too consumed
by your touch to notice
the difference.

I said I’d call but didn’t.
You said you liked me,
And I said I liked you too.
But really what I liked
Was the attention you gave me.

I meant no harm.
I hope you see
That I’m just scared.
Scared of hurting you.

I said I’d call
And so I should.
But I can’t call now.
Not after what’s happened.
How can I face you?
You who are so sweet and expectant.

You’ve scared me to the bone.
Yet you did nothing wrong.
Its all my fault, don’t you see?
I’m just fucked up
And I don’t know why.

You’ve consumed my thoughts
Since I met you.
I’d like to tell you that’s a good thing,
But I can’t.
I’m just chicken shit.