Unfinished

An incomplete poem about my dilemma.

How much do I run away from myself?

How do I tame the kid in me that asks me for his attention?

Some things happen once a lifetime.

Some things, way too ideal. Too good to be real.

First times are always special �" the late-night calls, the random texts, his voice, his vibe, him.

An arrogant b***h on the outside, a sweet puppy in the inside.

The gush of emotions when I see his name pop up on my phone, enough to trigger a whole day of anxiety.

Am I good enough? Am I pretty? Am I smart enough?

“What could happen between two mature adults who knew their limits”?

Anything, one never knows.

The heart is dumb, it takes longer to accept things that the mind already knows.

Then, what is it that exists?

Too soon to be love?

Too deep not to be.

Friends? That’s what it should strictly be �" but umm, I’m not sure.  

Wait, isn’t love a super advanced version of friendship. Never mind.

Only if she wasn’t in his world.

Why does the world dismiss unnamed relations? Why need a name tag?

Insecurities? Maybe. I’ve never had mine. My heart ain’t dumb, it knows its s**t:)

Ideal relationships don’t exist. Wrong, I didn’t get a chance to label mine as one.