Limbo

Being with you is like getting drunk.

I never know if I’m going to end up

stumbling around in a pleasant haze

or drowning in a stupor of sadness.

I am constantly prepared to be both

pleasantly surprised and swept off my feet

or to be dropped like old news.

Do you know how exhausting that is?

to only be sitting on the edge of my seat,

and to only ever stand on the tips of my toes?

It’s not even settling for something in-between,

it’s constantly being on both extremes.

When I was a kid, I loved the game

where you pull petals off a sunflower:

“She loves me, she loves me not”.

I don’t like playing that anymore

because it’s all I’m doing all the time,

and it’s not as fun as it used to be.

Not when I am the sunflower

and you’re slowly picking away at it

while you decide if it’s worth it to love me.

You beg me to come over and you love me.

You say you need space and you love me not.

You tell me I’m pretty and you love me.

You tell me you’re broken and you love me not.

You see, I’m giving you all that I have,

but I don’t know what you want from me,

so I’ll patiently give it and miss you

way more than I want to,

because I’m too busy loving you

and hoping you’ll make up your mind,

before all the petals are gone

and you leave me behind to wilt alone.