On Loneliness of the Third Type

I want to be alone, with you. 

Does that make sense?
I want to be alone
I don’t want to talk to you
I don’t want to do anything
I just want to be alone, but with you there 

Because you won’t tell me I need to talk, or be anything other than what I am being 
And maybe just being with you
I’ll be able to talk to someone 
Express the feelings that swallow me like a black hole
Pulling me in 
Pulling me under 
You don’t ask that of me 
So I feel like I could give it 

Does that make sense?
I doubt it 
I’m rambling 
Sitting in a lavender scented tub with a damp notebook and a hand trying to fly away from me 

I don’t want to tell you what is happening, but I also do 
I want you to know
To help me lift some of this weight off my shoulders 
Not pick it up for me – you wouldn’t, and I would hate you if you tried. 
But just keep me company while I set it down for a while 

A rest between sets
A momentary pause 
To breathe 
And analyze where to go from here 

Because in between the call that never came 
And the texts with no reply 
And the words still ringing in my ears 
Between the voices in my head telling me to stop 
Not to try 
That I will only ever fail, at everything 

I think of your face 

So, yeah
I just want to be alone, with you 

It’s all I want to ask of you

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