Concrete

If all my love
could be captured in a mason jar
and displayed on a windowsill,
you would realize that it's
glowing and pulsing
fading in and out.
Like a heartbeat.

It's not that I claimed you as mine,
it's that I wish I had the guts to.
A whisper no one else could say,
a dream no one else could think,
a song that no one else knows.
Someone that only I could have.

And I just wait here day after day,
writing poems I pretend to be deep,
when all they scream is that
I just wish someone would claim me like that too.

Maybe it would be like hot breath
pushing on the back of your neck,
or it could be the greatest hug
you've ever felt wrap around you.

You are so cool,
full of something I just can't get,
and good at whatever you do.
I wish I knew what it meant to be something.
And every time you win a battle,
it's like glass in my heart.
Especially because I feel like vapor
and you are like concrete.
I just can't break you,
but you can stop me at everything.

I'm not creative,
I only write poems to try to be like another
person who is solid,
I only play music to be like another wall,
I only cook fancy food to be like another,
concrete.

And everyday I feel like my eyes
are being opened,
and even if that's supposed to be
a good thing it's still numbing to realize
you've been blind all this time,
And like a slap on the face
you see reality in it's blinding glory.
Instantly smaller,
the light overwhelms you.
I hate finding out I was wrong.
When you only want to be right
the first time.
Starting over is just another mile back
mile marker 62.

So there you go,
finally an explicit line never written before:

I want you to be mine.

And I want you to stop talking to him.

And I want you to be cooler than you are.