You notice the small things that typically cannot be found by the average person - hidden in plain sight. That's something I think about a lot nowadays: the ways in which we hide things even when everyone else can see it for themselves. I try to let you see all of me, but I think I get in my own way at times.
A freckle on my face turns into conversation, and I feel eyes on the curvature of my cheekbones. Sometimes I take time out of my day to notice the little things about you too, so it's nice to know that you do the same to me. I take you in one freckle at a time, slowly and almost agonizing in the way I'm learning about you. Do you feel that way too?
The adoration I hold for you is hidden in plain sight; everyone can hear it in my voice and see it on my face. It's evident, because I'm showing so much. Perhaps I'm bursting with the sugary sweet affection that I always said I hated. Quick, let me reach out to you again. A brush of my knuckles on your arm means something, and everyone who isn't us knows very well.
Isn't it funny how I fear that I'm not showing you enough affection? You've been grasping for it lately, and I wish my instinct was to give it to you. I guess I'm too afraid to give you my all, deep down somewhere in my mind that I cannot access.
Give me a minute, let me bloom in your light. I'll open up to you and give you what you need - everyone knows I've got enough love to give away. I've been saving it for someone who really needs it, and you seem like that someone. This is me opening my arms to you, so watch me bloom! You're an accidental, but wonderful mess, and I'm tired of not showing you the affection you desire.
I know my actions never convey how I feel quite how I'd like them to, so know this: I love you in a way that I've never loved before. I don't know how to explain it to you, that's why I've settled on showing. Keep noticing the little things, and you'll notice just what's been slipping through the cracks.
Everybody knows, darling. It's hidden in plain sight, and whenever you happen to stumble upon it, you'll know. You'll know.
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Self Deception
PoetryPoetry 2017 And if I burn out in a fit of psychosis, remember me as a young god, with that smile made of daggers, even if I was the most dangerous thing you could've touched. Perhaps all that danger comes from the multiple personalities, but all I...
