Sick with a great many things.
Fever, nervous corkscrew guts.
Hacking, wheezing, sniffling sneezing.
Mostly sick with fear.
Mostly afraid to see you again.
Mostly afraid to leave things how they are.
Unspoken, assumed, and oft unreciprocated.
I need someone. I think we've established that.
The problem is, I only want one someone.
Now maybe the problem isn't so much that I'm broken.
I can feel, I have a name.
But for some reason this candle only lights for you.
A mere pinlight when you deserve a wildfire.
It's the best I can offer, fearing as I do
knowing what I know
sheltering what little I have
in such a vast darkness.
I fear that you already know...
and that smile is just a bandage on a missing limb.
Salve on cancer, ointment on a burn ward.
Would I be right in assuming that I can love you better than him?