The Boundaries and Bartering of Want

The Boundaries and Bartering of Want

Bartering with security in self

To figure out what you want

The idea that you actually want me

That you would pursue me if I were to turn

As if not to offer my time and myself in verbal and written overtures

That you had to dissect this communication by instilling

Your own risk into a sense of wanting someone

You may not be able to have is the paradox DNA of attraction

By easing this burden for you

I am damning myself into a corner of fragility

To shatter these birthing bonds between us

And so gamesmanship perpetuates the routes

Of foreign waters to ask myself to ignore you

To put off speaking in weeks of distance

As if everyday is a mental exercise in self flagellation

To implicate a lack of want, an ability to live outside the boundaries

Of the consciousness of your existence with ease

And eradicate my writer’s soul, the expounding juggernaut

Of emotional discourse of what I am feeling and wanting

And thinking and not interact with its stampede

Through my daily activities, to ignore this marauder of focus

That uproots forests and crashes down mountains of stable and

Professional pursuits that I should be attending to, but can not

Overcome the pleasurable undercurrents of the waters of you

That run rapid in an undertone returning in ten minute increments

Like a streaker in public spaces demanding onlookers

That although less audacious, I am none the less incapable of ignoring

And all my resistance is rendered moot

Knowing I have never felt wanted in my life

Knowing I have never felt chosen above another option

Knowing I have never felt the luxury of a margin for error

These damnations of self-image hidden like closeted nuclear weapons

Exposed and exploding in the bowls of my own coatings

Suicide to describe to you at this stage, hoping for a one day

Type of understanding lurking the margins, unconcerned with my history

And permitting my focus to return in a simple request of desire from you

Knowing, for you to ever love me I must be birthed as a ghost

Capable of grand intrigue that only reciprocal uncertainty can ever solidify

Into tangible attraction