Confessions

I have a confession to make.
I don’t really know what I’m doing.
 
The flair in me,
it seems, had died
long before you came crashing
through my proud shell
still struggling to understand
that now I reap what I sow;
 
That now the world spun a bit
Too  
Fast
For me.
 
I’m fine.
It’s hard, though
when you eye me lovingly
like I still were the treasure
that you were looking for.
 
Only if.
 
I have a confession to make.