Never

I have one word answers

to statements

that do not get me

trapped under the snow

or hitting trees

speeding down slopes.

I am not even close

to being

who you think I am.

Over a coffee,

I aim to not impress you

with my silent eyes.

Over a drink,

I aim to not impress you

over my drunken innuendos

and real batty lashes.

I never

ever

get a grip

on reality

for if I do,

I will let it control me

in ways that anxiety does.

I would rather live in my head

be in control

half of the time,

accumulate speeding tickets

burn notebooks

and still

you would not be impressed

by my recklessness,

or my playlist

or my grocery list

for you care only

about the softness of my skin,

how I never age,

so, I do suppose,

in that

I could finally impress you

the most.

How you want to seduce

me with your lies,

your brilliant skies,

your magnetic eyes,

all under poetic disguise.

My dad whispered how he loved me

in my dream last night .

You care not for my poetry

or my dark eyeliner

all you care for

is my reality

to be yours

naked

under strange sheets.

I prefer the smell of fabric softener.

My dad said the words

I longed to hear. 

Even in death he knows what 

I need to hear. 

And still I can never be yours.