Wonderings

Maybe I just don't want to let you down.

Maybe I just don't want you to let me down.

Maybe I'm trying to free the bird in my chest pecking at me to get out.

Maybe its beak just punctured my lung.

Maybe my heart is getting itchy and uncomfortable.

Maybe I can't scratch because it's beneath the skin.

Maybe I scratch the skin anyway.

Maybe sometimes I think I'm one of the people who froze in the Atlantic when the Titanic sank.

Maybe I'm the one who designed the ship.

Maybe I'm the iceberg.

Maybe I'm bad at trusting.

Maybe you don't know that because I can't trust you with that information.

Maybe I'm just a cliché.

Maybe these words have been written.

Maybe there isn't a clear point to this conversation.

Maybe this isn't a conversation.

Maybe this is a lecture.

Maybe these are answers in the form of questions.

Maybe these are questions in the form of statements.

Maybe I'm the person that would have attended public executions.

Maybe I stormed the Bastille.

Maybe I dropped the blade on Marie Antoinette's neck.
Maybe I'm Marie Antoinette.

Maybe I'm a history geek and no one else knows anything about her except "let them eat cake."

Maybe that bothers me.

Maybe I'm going to die.

Maybe I'm going to live.

Maybe I abandoned any semblance of logical thought around the third line.

Maybe all I am is a set of those foot long matches you light the grill with.

Maybe I'm just not that useful.

Maybe I'm that dandelion fluff your parents tell you to stop blowing away because you'll just have to pick the weeds I spawn.

Maybe curiosity killed the cat, but at least it figured out what it was missing.

Maybe I'm missing something.

Maybe I'm just tired.

Maybe I just don't know who I am anymore.

Maybe I do, I just don't want to admit it.

I just don't really know.

Maybe I'll figure it out at some point.

Maybe not.

Maybe "maybe" is just a placeholder for when we don't want to tell ourselves the truth.

Maybe not.


--Alis