But How Do YOU Feel, Lovey?

what if i wrote about love
like it was still lovely

i could do that.

i sit and i watch them, and i'm happy. they're good,
they're alright. i'm actually happy.
in that secret presence no one else gets to see

it's strange to think you never liked this.
it's strange to think that you never saw me in that gentleness,
but
i guess you never did.

what if i wrote about hurting
every single day
what would you say if i asked you
when the cutoff date is for using this as a reason?
when does it become an excuse?
when is mourning yourself to sleep unacceptable?
when do i start filling up again?

what if i wrote about my love
like it's no different

what if i cherished the small smile that was just for me
all your metal and ink and your shining wonder

what if we stood face to face
what happens then?
well, then
i would crawl back to boo
and let her sweep up the pieces again.
then pumpkin works her magic
and tells me it should've happened much sooner
and it's going to take a long time,
but somehow it will be okay

inevitably
i break down.

now the question is,
who could fix me?