The Paranoia of You
‘I don’t want you to get over me.’
‘I don’t want you to move on.’
‘I don’t want you to forget me.’
All the confessions, the desperation and the shameless, selfish desires.
The way you’d admit to the craved crimes yet to be committed.
Your words of devotion wrapped in the promise of a threat; I’m wherever you are.
The way you’d hold onto me, so tight, I didn’t know if the pain bordered on comfort or captivity.
The look in your eyes when you’d whisper, “you belong to me.”
The dilation of your pupils, as the black swallowed the brown.
The muscle that ticks in your jaw as you refuse to look away.
The fear in my eyes as I’d lie to myself that you don’t mean it.
Because you didn’t.
Right?
I leave the house and I double check for the illusion of footsteps behind me.
My heart skips a beat at every red car, but I can’t seem to look away.
The air leaves my lungs; every man seems to be you.
Because you’re everywhere and you’re nowhere.
The paranoia wraps around my bones like silk; I can’t decide if it’s too cold or too familiar.
I can’t decide if it’s electrifying or horrifying.
A dream or a nightmare.
I can’t decide if it’s everything I’ve ever craved or everything I’ve ever feared.
Because the truth is I’m a runner.
Since the vex of your skin, the trail of your scent and the promise of a hunt.
I can’t hide, I can’t think, I can’t wait.
Because I’m thrilled, I’m terrified and I’m waiting.
Come find me.
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