deepundergroundpoetry.com

to continue pushing a narrative window

If you read this, and if it would please you to help me one more time              
                  
would you think about saying hello? But just think about it. Don't really                  
                   
Some other time.                  
                   
You tried to be my friend a long time, but I couldn't a lot at all, and for why, I didn't know how.                  
                   
There were a lot of understands I didn't. I didn't understand why I was taking hormones, not to mention I'd never figured out Faith nor understood what-all a path thus should include. I didn't know what the Virtues actually meant, like Hope, or what could be understood to mean Chastity. Why the within of me was always so happy to mention I was taking testosterone blockers.                  
                    
After I started trying to become a person you were the first I was around enough to look me over then try to reach me about loving myself                  
                   
or at least that's what it felt like. I've wanted to throw myself onto the ground in front of you in gratitude every time I saw you ever since.                   
                   
But. Even though I believed that it didnt work like this, I couldn't understand that how I felt didn't somehow mean that I was in love with you. It's like you were Jesus, and I had a crush on you. I wasn't adept at just seeing people.                    
                   
And like Heidi in that story book about her and Jesus, I wanted to know you so badly within. I'm sorry that I got in the way. I knew it. I guess I don't know why I'm crying so much, other than it feels like I can. I was there for so long, so badly wishing just to sit and know you. I wanted you to know me, but i didn't know how. Today it's like you are somebody's ghost and I'm so talkative, or suddenly I'm crying, and at other times both. It won't be like that tomorrow.                 
                   
Secretly though I must be loving the agony. To feel like a peasant girl (driving in her car) with eyes full of tears and a heart of faith? Yes please. There's no hurt here, really. The anguish and the euphoria have always been spiritual. I just didn't know.           
                 
If you read this, so many times I wrote to you just like this when things were cold, when everything was cold and I was desperate, so very wrong and trying to keep myself sane solely through typing words into document files on my telephone.                  
                   
Worry for me please don't.         
           
Anyway, I always thought you were great. 🤦 Sorry.



        
         
 
           
        
Neoma
Written by Neoma
Published | Edited Yesterday
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