When You Love “The Chase”

Chelsea Francis
Chelsea Francis

I have always liked the chase.
And I don’t mean that in some creepy “don’t look back because I’m literally following you” you type way,
But just I’ve never liked things to come too easily.
I craved the boys who didn’t at first see me,
The ones who passed by without a second glance.
Because it’s easier to pin my desires on something out of reach.
Something that I can day dream about.
Fall in love with imaginary.
Scheme up ways to one day achieve,
But ultimately know,
I only have to go to bed with one person each night.

And that’s me.

I take pride in my bravery,
that if I see someone I like,
I have no qualms about letting them know.
I will ask a guy for his number.
I will be the one to ask him what he’s doing that weekend.
I am not afraid to make the first move.

I guess it’s what happens after that terrifies me.

It’s the arm that reaches for me in the middle of the night,
tries to pull me close.
When someone wants to hold me while I sleep.
But my skin itches,
begging for release.
When I am vulnerable,
when I pick at my own fingernails because REM cycle will just not find me.
I am fine with touching
when we kiss,
when we explore,
when we fuck,
when I am in control to tell them when to stop.

But when I’m asleep,
I’m afraid of having someone next to me.
Do not want them to hear my ticking brain.
I am a bomb waiting to explode.
I cannot drown out this symphony of anxiety when they are close enough to hear the percussion of my heart beat.
I cannot paint my loneliness quite as vividly with another body in reach.
I cannot find peace when pieces of me are breaking apart every time someone looks at me.

They question why I ask them to leave at 5 in the morning.
Or why I pull away when they brush a lock of hair from my face.
I always say,
“I’m not sure.”
Because I am not sure.
I am not sure why love is so scary.
I am not sure why I can be alone on a stage,
drip out every secret,
insecurity.
Undress myself for the world to see.
But being naked with anyone else
when we’re still,
and they just want to hold me,
makes my stomach drop.
Makes me want to search for a faith
that will finally have a God
to tell me why I am so comfortable being alone,
but so freaked out by anyone else wanting to call my bed their home.

I have always liked the chase.
Because I’ve always been running from something.
I’m just not sure what. TC mark

Ari Eastman

✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

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