you were on the outside, but you weren't looking in
and I tried relentlessly to drag you into this perfect circle
-this circle we struggle to know, called love-
but just because it's perfect doesn't mean that it's the best
maybe you have to know ugly to appreciate lovely
so a perfect love ended up being not-so-perfect
and, in my weakness, I couldn't handle that
if only it were real, this thing we have somehow
I wonder if you even think of it as I do
perhaps my nerves have become so numb
that I can't even feel a thing like love
as I've been told so many times before
maybe I need veneration, so I feign my love
or maybe I feed off the acceptance of another
but I know deep down, I'm not a vampire
I wouldn't call it love if I knew unmistakably it wasn't
so I suppose I have felt love
but I don't any longer, if I ever did
so I sit here alone, analyzing the past
using one cup from a tea-for-two
and realizing my nerves could fill up the other cup
fill it up with my nerves for one

11/26/2000

Author's Note: "my bum is a perfect circle"

Posted on 10/26/2004
Copyright © 2025 Emily G Myers