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Description
I miss writing to you like a passionate Brontë character,
I spoke with a fierce heat that broke through computer screens
It could have been spilt in ink on rustic rushes of paper,
Hushed words prompted by the press of hot porcelain skin against silk brocades
Crumbled sexual status lines found by the wayside of our percolating conversations
You brought this budding lyricist to the front,
Afraid of the possibility of breaking this fragile soul,
I hid behind words, gilded and gliding lustrous words they may have been:

I was a demon sitting in, missing phone calls and pushing up the walls
Trying so hard to keep myself in check, to be the do-gooder, the sweet one that everyone comes to for help. I was the protector, so where was my armor when I felt so damn vulnerable under your stare? I kept you at mile-long arms length, tried too hard to push you into another realm of my existence, and lost you completely. I blacked out on the positive possibilities, the rush of warmth when you contacted me, the growl of white noise in the back of my mind when I started running away. My soul knew what I had found was important, and my mind just couldn't reach an acceptance point, couldn't balance the bliss and the reality.

So I apologize, my very own Mr. Rochester, whom I never regained from the fire set by crazed naïve hands. I tried to love, but I lost instead.

Description
I miss writing to you like a passionate Brontë character,
I spoke with a fierce heat that broke through computer screens
It could have been spilt in ink on rustic rushes of paper,
Hushed words prompted by the press of hot porcelain skin against silk brocades
Crumbled sexual status lines found by the wayside of our percolating conversations
You brought this budding lyricist to the front,
Afraid of the possibility of breaking this fragile soul,
I hid behind words, gilded and gliding lustrous words they may have been:

I was a demon sitting in, missing phone calls and pushing up the walls
Trying so hard to keep myself in check, to be the do-gooder, the sweet one that everyone comes to for help. I was the protector, so where was my armor when I felt so damn vulnerable under your stare? I kept you at mile-long arms length, tried too hard to push you into another realm of my existence, and lost you completely. I blacked out on the positive possibilities, the rush of warmth when you contacted me, the growl of white noise in the back of my mind when I started running away. My soul knew what I had found was important, and my mind just couldn't reach an acceptance point, couldn't balance the bliss and the reality.

So I apologize, my very own Mr. Rochester, whom I never regained from the fire set by crazed naïve hands. I tried to love, but I lost instead.