Poetry by Fitz

I couldn’t tell you why I hate you, innocent smile/black-eyed child
Perhaps it’s the way you build my walls strong
Yet out of glass
You tell me I’m strong
But you paint my walls in a brittle veneer.
A tangible illusion designed to be shattered.

But by who?

By me?
Or by you.

I couldn’t tell you why I love you, sickening voice/the wrongest of my choices
Could it be that you treated me right? If just for a minute?
But I wasn’t an endless tome, you tore me and binned it
And I liked it the tearing
Because it gave me something to feel
I couldn’t tell you why I need you but I know that it’s real.

Do I know that?
Is it real?
Is the sky blue or is it teal?
Are the oceans yet red enough
for my wounds to heal?
Or am I stuck in a ship with you at my wheel
Of glass
Of brittle veneer
Steer me too hard and both of us will fear as the glass
Shatters
Our palms bleeding songs
That echo into the seas where we drown of our own devises
No floats
Just our vices.

I can tell you why I need you. What good would that be?

I need you to want me.

I want you to need me.