(this would have been over 20 minutes ago if I'd just had the good sense to lie.)

It’s not that I’m not listening;

I am!

But inside my mind, I’m writing

And the words up there are louder than your voice

You look at me

as I try to explain

my brain

and how and why it works the way it does

And I can tell you’re waiting

patiently

for the caveat to come

After I say there’s nowhere I’d rather be

than in a basement

by myself

where the world will let me write

(You want me to add that

of course, this is all second

to being here with you)

I’ve seen the look you’re giving me:

you realize you’re missing

something

but you don’t know enough

to be completely confused,

So I pause

and consider opening that Pandora’s box

(but then you’ll look at me like I’m crazy

and I’m not sure I’m in the mood to deal

with that)

Because once you know,

you’ll always wonder

if it’s happening again

(it is)

And you’ll never look at me the same,

And for what it’s worth,

I like the way you look at me

(even if you’re not so much looking at “me”

as you are looking at an edited version,

easier to digest,

than the original

complicated

mess)

I didn’t want you to be mad

but now you are

so I sigh

as I apologize

 (I never meant to hurt your feelings

but you asked

and I

am too tired to lie.)