There is a path
in which I walk
down to your room
on the days
I agree to meet you
The days I give up
struggling alone
to the room where
I revisit 8th grade inflictions
I once put on myself
And you
You sit there telling me
that this is not a dream
This is a reality
that has begun
dissecting a heart
A heart that sends out blood
of blind emotion
in every direction
and forgive me
if I don’t reply
I just don’t feel
a psychoanalyzation
into your perception
of this human condition
will ever justify
my love for you.
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I will be revisiting this often!