My leg sways back and forth
in a nervous rhythm,
an anxiety I didn't know I had,
yet an involuntary action that I recognize.
Looking out at these waters,
out here on South Boulevard Beach
just reminds me that I still love you.
But how could it?
Time has passed and we are different people now
but I still love you, I've always loved you.
I'd rather die than tell you that
but it's true nonetheless.
I ask myself constantly "what is it about her?"
but I know exactly what it is.
It's the fear of being hurt again that stops me
and the uncertainty I feel that you don't feel the same.
You said let's hang our for an hour, hour and a half
but you kicked me out after 30 minutes.
And you walked me down to your garage
so you could give me back the heater that I left here.
Then you smoked a half smoked cigarette that you rolled
and hugged me goodbye.
As I watched you walk away, I whispered to myself,
"I love you."
Did you hear me?
So what am I doing here,
sitting at South Boulevard Beach?
Just hoping that you'll look out the window
and see me.
But I know you won't,
I know you have a lot on your plate right now
and you told me you needed time for your mental health.
So I'll respect that, you know I will.
But just look out the window, please...
and see me.
I'm doing the best that I can.
I'm broken and I don't think I can be fixed
but you bring me hope and that's all I need.
I know it's not enough for you
so I'll bide my time
until I know that it's right
and I hope you accept me,
blunders and all.
I know it's not ideal,
but most things aren't.
And I can't help asking myself,
"Will I ever be enough?"
