I thought of you for no reason at all
…or so I’d like to think…
While deciding whether or not to get up.
Did I say whether or not to give up?
My subconscious must be even more
insanely persistent than the
all-six-cylinders part of my brain.
(you’d think by now I’d have it trained)
At least, I thought so. But then,
I also thought we were talking again,
Until it turned out we weren’t. That’s the
thing with not talking, I’ve noticed.
There should be an official grace period
so you know for sure. “Hmm, three weeks.
Guess we’re no longer talking.” Then
you could make a note not to try again.
Of course, I could mark it on
my forehead and still forget —
isn’t it hard to remember when you
repeatedly decide you don’t want to?
And maybe this is admirable,
but it probably is not. A full
inspection would show I do
want you to be happy; no lie.
Except that I want you to
be happy 90 percent out of
selflessness, 10 percent cause
I somehow blame myself if you’re not.
Don’t know where the line falls;
does admitting I’m partly jerk
make my jerk part partly shrink?
I’d go hook, line and kitchen sink
For any scheme that just
resulted in a healthy ‘us’
for long enough so I might see
that you’re ok and I’m not needed.
Must be the thought that maybe you
pick comfort over minor risk
that keeps you in my head.
I, for once, tried risk instead
But there’s the problem
with talking to girls:
Half of every turn we take
is wholly not my own to make.