Existent

Someone else could;

I guess apart of me would always be afraid. 

That fear of not being able to fit a certain part, or reach a certain standard; it had become engraved in my mind. As of right now, there was no way I was filling any sort of role that I knew, as a fact, someone else could. 

And that fear over rode any other logical emotion I had built inside me. That fear corrupted how I seen everything you had ever done and every electrical message that had ever buzzed through the nerves in your brain- the nerves that craved experiences that I lacked ability to give. 

It replayed on me constantly, what if it wasn't enough? What if the distance between us became too much? 

What if the people who were there, were there where I could not be. What if the land became the sea. Tell me, if a man is drowning, will he set the other free? Am I dragging you down with me?

If the nights became too long, if you lost the lyrics to a certain song, if another was holding your hand while I was gone- would I be wrong? 

Would I be the one, if I was never the one. 

The laughter in your lungs is dull and lacks the fun, that lights up your eyes when I am not the one, darling how am I the one-

I stole the matches from the sun, that kept it burning, lighting, turn to stone. You are nothing good because I- I am not good. So is that which to say you may one day, realize, you lost it all for a dainty kiss that felt right and blue oceanic eyes, that made you feel mesmerized but were the very knives that stabbed you and made you cry?

Tell me is there no other that would do you right? 

I do you wrong even when I do you right, is that a sorely prize, a broken screen, a lovers lies, to come back clean every night, no forgiveness in our torn souls, I am weak and not the one.