You can't
laugh
and say Like I was saying... oh no wait, I didn't tell you.
No, no, you'd just worry
and think I won't worry anyway
worry about what thing you haven't told me
what worry-worthy, laugh-worthy truth hangs between us
unknown
but still potently dangerous
so you told me
of course
because you know me and you know that I will worry regardless
you know the way I hang on every word you speak
and the way my heart clenches when I think too hard about you
and all the things in your life which terrify me
and you were right; I'm worried
terrified, even. Of course.
and so you asked me if I was ok,
like there was every any question
asked and said of course you know I'm not
(how could I be?)
talked about it as though I have a right to this
the way the air leaves my lungs like I'm in a vacuum
the way I want to cry but can't quite find the tears
the way the words hover just out of reach
and I asked you if you wouldn't feel this way if you were me
and you said you would
so there's that, I suppose
but yes. you act as though you know
as though you're confident now
in the feelings I wish to deny
in the places I leave silent
and the words I choose which aren't quite answers to the question asked
and you act as though I should feel this way, as though it's ok, it's fair it's allowed
as though I have any right at all
and it makes me hope that maybe I do
but then you fall asleep
next time, could you maybe breathe into the phone?
so I can listen to you sleep
and know, for now at least, that you're still there
you're still ok
and I can close my eyes in the dark
and relax
and breathe
