I saw the most beautiful face the other day,
She was high up peaking over a face-brick wall.
I couldn’t reach to shake her hand,
Or understand why she was up there,
But we conversed for hours,
And when she went silent,
I would simply just stare.
Every now and then she’d disappear,
But it seemed like she enjoyed my company,
So I’d wait around for her to return,
Waiting patiently to hear her story.
I’d ask her where she went to,
And broken stories would stumble off her tongue.
I couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth,
I knew I liked her so the inconsistencies stung.
A part of me didn’t care,
Her personality left me in awe.
Another part of me did,
I feel like she needed my help,
A bigger part of me cared.
After some time she eventually leaned over,
I rushed to grab her hand,
But she quickly let go,
Telling me she was more comfortable hanging on the wall,
Somehow I began to understand.
I don’t think she knows how beautiful she is,
Or that I come in peace.
I don’t think she knows how much I care,
And that I’m not a repeat.
I don’t think she knows I want to help,
I’m not here for a midnight treat.
I just want her to know that she’s special to me,
But without her willingness,
This wall I cannot defeat.
Sometimes I feel like I have these tears to cry,
And I’m left with all these wondering questions of why?
Why can’t we seem to get over the past,
And come together and be a whole at last?
Why won’t you at least try to believe what I say,
Instead of just constantly pushing me away?
Why do I keep putting myself out there,
When sometimes you don’t even seem to care?
I have these emotions I wish you would see,
So I wouldn’t be left with the questions of,
Will she or won’t she?
Will she ever love me like a love I once knew?
And give me the things I once knew?
Won’t she see,
I feel I don’t know her anymore,
And let herself go back to how she was before?
Will I still hurt when I heal,
Or will she finally let me feel?
Since we crossed paths on this lonely road,
I’ve given you my last tissue,
And the similarities between us begin to unfold.
It seems you feel trust is owed,
But your actions make me second guess if your last guy was really the issue.
I believe in you.
Yet at times I feel that to you I just exist.
In the midst of all the controversy,
In the mist of all the broken stories,
I insist that one day you’ll open up to me.
I pick up the broken pieces though,
And can tell you’ve had it rough.
Am I not allowed to draw conclusions,
Since you show little emotion except being tough?
Is my time not enough?
My open mind not enough?
This open book of mine not enough?
Will you please just open up?
Before I give you back your broken pieces,
Mine are heavy as it is.