Who said I wanted something safe?

Tue, 09/17/2019 - 17:59 -- daisys

I wish you would take what you need and just leave me alone.

I push you away, but you keep on insisiting.

My smile is barely there, but it's there.

What do I want?

I don't know.

You tease me and try to get to the bottom of me.

When you walk away, I want you to walk back to me.

When you get too close, I want to run as far as I can.

What is it that you like about him?

Honestly, I'm not completely sure.

It's all so blurry, though.

Is it the way he feels entitled to everything he uses?

I know, that's a really bad sign.

And, I'm probably stupid for playing his twisted game.

Everyone looks at us with confused glances.

Like are they arguing or flirting?

Big bad smile.

He smiled so wide, but why?

I didn't say anything funny.

Maybe it's the fact that I stutter and blush like a 7th grader.

Smiling is a good sign especially if it involves the whole face, that's what experts say.

But, his smile I don't know if it's the good kind.

Don't get close to the big bad wolf.

He'll bite your hand off and leave you feeling confused.

I mean there was a spark of kindness; I swear I saw it.

He's bitter and brooding.

I insist, though.

And, he loves catching me off guard.

I think he already found which buttons to press.



I never liked him.

But, who said I wanted someone happy?

And, when he pushes me too hard, I lunge myself forward.

You push, I push you back.

Daisy, just stop shut up and stop arguing, that's what my subconscious says.

No, I don't think I will.

I've spent my entire childhood doing that.

Pleasing others.

So, there we go arguing back and forth.

I am so sorry, he says with a sly grin.

Yeah, right.



I know he's probably playing with my feelings.

He's tossing them around as I run and try to grab them from his hands.

He blocks me with his arms.

I'm in middle school again.

Daisy, put on your big girl pants.

Well, what if I don't have them yet?

"Sorry for the confusion".



I'm not confused.

He confuses me without reason.

So, there he goes pouring gasoline unto the wildfire of my life.

And, there I am watching him laugh while he finishes the job. 



This poem is about: 
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