Hiding the tidal wave that
resides within,
smiling and confused at the same time
I ask myself, “What do you want with him?”
He should be just a friend and nothing more.

But my cynical blues give way to oranges
and those other happy fruity colors
when
he sitting there laughs at my bitter quips
And fires back with some of his own,
even better than mine.

I can only hope that I haven’t tainted
him,
that I’m not the dirt to his carpet
or the worm to his apple
or the tsunami to his beach
One of those unsuspected things that
Rises from an ocean of faceless people
and washes away all the good he’s worked so hard
to build up

Because it would be horrible
to find out
that I’m
nothing
but
Poison