Curled quiet in companionable silence,

I am amused and a little ashamed of the blatant silliness,

The absolute paradox

Of you and me.

Hiding behind an archetype,

I was a fragile bomb;

Covered in porcelain casing and about to destroy everything.


I'll just laugh it off

Thanks to you.

So, I'm a hypocrite.

So, aren't we all?

Embracing your shortcomings,

Your deviations,

Your crooked nose.

Laughing like a kid on Christmas,

Dragging me out of the depths of myself once again,

I realize now that I owe you for every fucking thing.

What we've created,

In that basement,

In our heads,

Is our own world;

A universe built of sound,

Of impulse,

Of everything deemed "too much".

The perpetual up to my down,

The high to my crash,

My rock in every glass-shattering storm.

Oh, there's debts here so deep they're unpayable.

Not that you'd even think of things like payback,

Of owing,

Or of resentment.

Your acceptance,

A thing of cosmic wonder to me,

Bars all such frivolities from your sweet little mind,

Instead making room for countless possibilities.

Idealizing failure,

Formulating everything out of nothing,

My personal Ubermensch.

I'd apologize for all the things I've put you though,

But I realize now that it's all become the mortar

Holding this crazy-house of happiness together.

That, and your ability to simultaneously make everything a joke,

And take everything in sincerity.

In spite of it all,

Maybe because of it all,

You've remained.