I am your biggest fan
I am always waiting to hear what you have to say when you begin to speak about your self. I notice the twitch of your nose when you're curious. The scrunch of your eyebrows when you're working hard. The widening of your eyes when I finally jump into our conversation to give my opinion, that you've asked for so many times. I see the way your arms fall at your side when your sad. The way they fold with each other when you're angry. I ask you why you're angry, but you look at me and shake your head, indicating that I am wrong. I see the way you close your eyes when pondering about what shield to put up next when I ask again if it was something I said, when really I know I haven't said anything at all, but I have a gut feeling it's always me that makes you unhappy. Disgruntled. Unsure. Tired.
I am the person you love, but despise most all at the same time, because of how much I worry. You tell me to back away when all I want to do is walk forward. Because of my worry. I would climb a mountain of falling rocks for you. All the same to get to the top, and realize there was no point at all. I would take the worst type of torture with my mouth sewn shut, just so you wouldn't have to hear my screams, and think my pain was your fault.
I am silent.
I am a listener.
I am your biggest fan.
YOU ARE READING
•Mind on Paper•
PoetryThis is going to be a collection of late night thoughts and spurs of inspiration for your viewing pleasure. Some of these could be happy, sad, melancholic, and much more. My brain is the brush, the paper, or in this case the screen is my canvas. I...
