I’m Not Good At This

What is love? What is like?
What is the difference between infatuation and enthralment and crying yourself to sleep at night?…

I’m not good at this.
I’m not good at a lot of things, but I’m especially not good at this.
I could give you a list of all the things I’m not good at,
I think number two would be taxes, but number one would be this,
Because at least with taxes I can google and ask advisors,
But no amount of astrology, advice columns, or prophesiers can help me decipher anything about this.

Five months in and I am none the wiser,
Find me a eulogizer who will say:
“Here lies the remains of a girl whose heart was constrained, overthrown by her brain.”

For the last 23 years I’ve somehow managed to wear my heart on my sleeve yet keep it covered in iron;
You can see its size, and its shape, but you can’t feel it, and you certainly can’t get in.
It’s not even that I wouldn’t let you, it’s that I couldn’t,
I don’t know how.
Fourteen years ago I hid that key and it’s never been found.
And the iron is thick, my heart can’t make a sound.
So I sit here in silence…

And it hurts.

And I tell myself that it doesn’t matter,
Because, even if I let my heart speak,
You wouldn’t care.

So I don’t dare look for that key.
Maybe it’s best that it’s lost…

I told you I’m not good at this.

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