Oh Fire, (published retroactively due to sitting on it so as to not be writing mad and then everything changed when the Fire asked me out so....)

First,
I am a coward-

Well not so much a coward
as one shy,
with the occasional bout
of crippling social anxiety,
with the fear of losing more dear friends,
and a talent for written words
not spoken ones
which really fucks me over
when a beautiful soul
breaks down in my kitchen
but I digress.

Second,
I'm sorry.
I feel like I messed up.
I feel like this is a mistake
but I actually did this once before
(And it sort of worked?
but this blog has been in the past
therapy for me that's free
and I can't cut myself off from this
even to save my pride)
so here goes me being unsubtle.

You're reading this.
I know you are because you talk of spoilers.
Maybe there's been a niggling feeling
you already have a poem
and you've been in denial.
Of course,
you don't do subtle
which is why you're now in my phone
as Enjolras
(Also because I'm a dark-haired drinker but anyway)

I was okay.
I was finally okay.
Then I get a Christmas card
that alongside beautiful encouragment
from a dear friend is:
"I'm terribly fond of you"
What the actual fuck, dude?
You don't send that to friends!
I'm not "fond" of Klicker or Gibbs
I'm fond of you but that's a whole other shot of burbon

A whole semester of
"Out of sight; out of mind,"
down the fucking drain.

augh,
That's why I need your friendship.
I could never say that to you directly-
cursing around you feels wrong,
And I need to clean up my act-
And you inspire me to be better-
the best me that there is-
with just your friendship,
so really that's all I need.

My people need me now.
A lot.
So I don't have time
for your half-flirting.
I wanted another week,
but drama queens intervened,
took me to the end of my rope
before I could say,
"Hey,
What exactly did you mean by,
'I missed dancing with you...
I missed you in general'?"

I'll be okay eventually I know.
You ought to pride yourself.
You've been a fire
I did not consciously start
and could not put out
since you offered me your handkerchief
on a sunny Sunday evening
when you saw me crying.
I have always prided myself
for creating my affections
as needed,
yet you are a rare and stubborn exception.

I've probably lost you now with this.
which sucks.

I don't know if I'll be able
to talk to you about
anything
remotely close to my soul for a while.
A dear friend
unintentionally toyed with my emotions
for the better part of a month-
I don't know how quickly I'll spring back
even if I can paint my face
to seem as if I have.
I won't be able to talk,
because this will linger for a while,
begging to be discussed,
but then the yawning chasm
of self-loathing will open up
and I'll want to cry
so my energies for speaking rationally and calmly
will be quickly diverted to the
Do Not Cry You Pathetic Wastrel Division
and the quality of conversation will decrease.

You weren't so dear a friend
the last time I misread you,
and you didn't tell me anything
I hadn't already figured out
and gotten over
that Saturday night on my porch.
(Actually the "you're a dear friend"
was a surprise,
again because I value time
and you hadn't offered me any
in two weeks.)

I'm sorry I can't say this
to your face.
Please don't bring this up.
I cannot bear to be weak
in the presence of all but a few,
a phone call is different
you can't see the tears
so all you're likely to get
is a neutral face,
blinking twice before a smile twitches to life,
and a sincere murmur
that everything is fine.