Strong enough to do it or strong enough not to

The fact of the matter is, I overthought it. I overthought it, and then I oversold it. I trembled across the slim line between cop cars. On the highway, legs wet on the leather, I hit the gas. Unclothed, I dove into the shaft of freezing water and had to be pulled back up. Every second available to me, a pearl gasping in my hands. Every word available to me, a bomb about to go off. Cliché of clichés. Red felt cloche in my baby photo. Chained to a man’s broken hip, I blow off work to lay on the two-seater and write a script of how to apologize to you. But though I know what I want to say, I can’t decide why I want to say it. Do I want to be vulnerable, or do I want to attempt vulnerability to force tender feelings in you? Come on, cries out the chorus, we know the answer. You can’t even listen to music without pretending you’re singing to an audience. So white-robed, white-socked, sleep-deprived, I stand at the metal table and pour out nectar, bleach, milk, vinegar, in different…