On the off chance this
Once discarded lothario
Older than a mud pie
In Borneo
Longing like rain in a desert
On the corner of sixth
Avenue and emerald street
Nearer the brothels than any temple long time met a cake
Of soap just clinging
To a sliver of one might call hope
Blathering wistfully
Though
Redeyed lack of sleep not crying
Clothes ***** as Moses
In Jerusalem on the sabbath when it was Jewish
And Islam wasn't a religion
Before the slayings at
Jericho
Almost old enough to remember
But has been told  about Jezebels wicked witches and fallen angels
All of that ****
Stood under a pine near a stop sign with faith hoping he'd see you again.
Reading the bible.

At times I feel socially awkward
hiding away those eyes from contact
mumbling and stuttering
as though I were stumbling,
upon the words as I was discovering.

Please don’t think I don’t want to talk
when I rush out,
Please don’t think I don’t want to talk,
when I don’t open your messages.

I escape out of nervosity
I feel the fuzziness in my head
butterflies in my stomach
nervosity in my nerves
lack of air in my lungs
tremble in my muscles
and the gritting of my teeth on my nails
as it drains every ounce of energy out of me.

I hide behind shadows
so I don’t encounter any social interaction.

No matter how many times I plan
and play a conversation in my head
I shudder and fret in reality,
making myself look like an awkward mess.

I want to be friends
I want to say hi
but the words do not escape
for I feel tongue tied.

I feel conscience and dreadful
for being such an awkward mess
choking on words
unable to let them
escape my tongue.

I am thinking
more than I am speaking
I can have a conversation in my head
but somehow, I find it difficult in reality.

But then you reach out
and make the first move
It makes it easier;
only to find myself
being an embarrassment once again.

But you don’t judge
you play it cool
and remain patient
you still show an eager to talk
and maybe that was what I needed
to be comfortable and me.

I lost
myself
in the me's
that have clothed
me through these
30 years

How can you love "you"
knowing there are
so many?

I lost myself in you.

I tried my best to be the best, for you.

I felt a loneliness each day as I'd wait for you to say hi, until I met the ones that helped my eyes to not cry.

I slowly overcame that rope that so tightly kept me attached to my bed, to dwell in the sadness I felt. The sadness you helped to grow.

I realized that I didn't have to be the version of me that worked with you the most. I could be the best version of me for myself, and not anyone else.

That was the moment I knew we didn't fit. It was all an illusion I had created in my head. So I wished you the best, and we said goodbye, and now to you I'll be remembered as "girl number five."

If girl number five could give you any kind of advice, she would tell you to get over all five of the girls you've had in your life before looking for number six. Maybe if you do that, six will be the one that fits with you.