You say you’re falling in love with me
and that’s why you need to walk away now
before I break your heart into two.
Of course, I’ll break your heart. I’m an extrovert.
That’s what we’re famous for doing.
it worries you that I can talk to anyone and make them smile so wide, the ends of their lips have no choice but to touch the wrinkles around their eyes.
It makes you insecure.
You need to walk away, despite knowing that if you leave
my stories will leave me too.
You’ll say bye and I’ll just open my mouth to try to ask you to stay and you’ll hear all my stories shattering inside my chest,
and then as I cry, it’ll leave me.
I’ll try to find my stories again.
I’ll look for it in the lost and found box in the cafes you and I constantly went to.
I’ll see if it’ll try to photobomb when I take selfies, like you used to.
I’ll search for it and I won’t find it.
It’ll kill me, make me feel empty.
stories are just a form of art,
just like me,
and our only defining characteristic
is that we’ll always find a way back to each other
so you choose to walk away
even if you’re breaking my art.
“they’ll come back.”
Introverts are poems, extroverts are stories.
Even if after this artbreak, my stories
comes back to me as poems,
Maybe then you and I can rhyme.