Collins

Though I wish to continue my state of oblivion,
I must recognize your truth,
slipping through the cracks,
falling through the holes,
running down your face.

And even when I know I'm not at fault,
I feel responsible for your feelings,
spilling out your mouth,
escaping from your hands,
revealed without good taste.

You're obvious in the worst sort of way,
Not sensible enough to be coy or charming,
stumbling over compliments,
ignoring forced conversations,
blind to clear rejections.

I hate to stand where you have me standing now.