Follow.

Follow.

What have you done?
You taught me to grow -
to look past the pain;
to remember why i love
rainy days.

Now - you come back,
and pull me down
and hold me still
while my life runs past
and trips.

I keep tripping on your words,
the hurdles
you keep putting up.
There's a reason I was always picked last for gym.
I'm a very poor runner.

What a cliche.
"hurdles".
I'm all cliches.
WE are a cliche -
"high school sweethearts"

But sweet is too tame a word.
for fights -
and tears -
and need.
For needing you.

You built me.
We built each other -
in thunderstorm pillow forts;
and illicit weekday picnics;
in coffee house duets.

My creative writing teacher
would vomit as
he read the lines
that form our
relationship.

- I want to shriek
when i hear you say
any name but mine.
I want to accuse -
I want to run away across the track and pass the finish line.

But I can't,
because you haven't hurt me,
or had any fault.
- Except maybe forgiving too much.
I ask what you've done -

but what have a done?
I've over thought.
I sit here and rely on verses
to express what
should be written in prose.

I'm so sorry
that my brain
likes to wander.
but I need you -
so all i ask:

Will you please follow?

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