by Meesha Meserole

Created on: October 03, 2009

I still can't fathom
That you, the elite,
Would condescend to be
My friend.

That every time we talk
Somehow I'm good enough.
My imperfect words
My imperfect thoughts
My imperfect emotions
My imperfect deeds
They draw you in

They should drive you away
You are Light,
Air,
Music,
Pure Words.
I am a guttering candle flame,
Smoke,
Discord,
Garbled Letters.

Yet
When I try to burn you
Choke you
Make you deaf,
Confuse you,
You smile and draw me closer

You light up my dark,
Fill up my lungs,
Cause me to sing,
Make everything clear.

For all that you do,
I love you, but
I am afraid

To pull close to you
To take of your goodness.
If I open my arms to you
You might silently
Slip away.

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