it's the same feeling
every time
the very air does something to me
turns my stomach
because I need it too much

the funny thing is,
I always think,
I'm okay this time.
This time won't hurt.
This time I'm better,
because of ----.
I'm always so
wrong.

hidden importance
drives by,
on its way to what I want
I can hardly breathe, the
aura of mystery
is too much like strong perfume
at the same time alluring
drawing me in
but making me feel
unwhole
showing me
my weakness

and I know you can't
understand,
even if I try to explain.


_____
copyright Miss Erin McIntosh, 2009
please do not reprint without permission
Poetry Friday roundup at Live. Love. Explore!