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Asking if I was okay

But it was just me to me

"Are you okay?" I asked myself

And I didn't know

What to do, what to do...

"Do you want food?" I asked myself.

I shrugged, though quiet

and oozing casual hostility

"I don't want that," I lied to myself

And I was getting frustrated with her

With me

"How about a walk?" I asked,

wincing at my own exasperation

And I withdrew into myself, feeling angry

"Don't ask me that."

If I can't even be delicate with myself

I wondered "Who else has a prayer?"

And sensing the isolation growing within me

I felt more kindly toward myself

Poor lost thing

Sitting in front of me

Begging for love and unable to find the words

"What do you want to do?" I ask myself,

Hoping this time I'd have an answer

But I was ashamed to admit that

this is what I want to do

Sulking

Alone, in the dark,

And wait for someone to come find me

So I say, "I don't know," and hope for a better suggestion

Truth is tedious and repetitive and obvious

You needn't convince someone of it:

The blueness of the sky

The enleaved branches of the tree

But when the truth is

"Even though every day you'll feel a little bit worse,

You have to go on anyway,"

That's when you need a little bit of a lie.

Something to get drunk on;

Something to look forward to

I hold her.

Amused, sad, sympathetic, irritated with her, myself,

And she 

Betrayed, misunderstood, desperately lonely

And when it's just me and I, I am

Less concerned with truth

I'm more concerned with feelings and

Whether or not

I'm doing alright