sunset peak

under the lens i lend to you,
 i invite you to the landscape of my mind.

but how vexing this feeling is --
  feeling seen and examined --
though i long for it.
i want to be seen.
i want to be understood.
 (it's not an uncommon feeling, is it?)

after years of loaning --
 i am used to returns.
maybe my stories never mattered,
 but i'll tell them anyway,
 if you'll listen.
 we can trade.

but then you asked for the prequels --
 watched the trailers reel --
longed for something too.
could i even dare,
with your stories,
 to co-imagine the sequels?

someone asked for more.
 how unfamiliar.
long ago, a naive self felt this before,
 blinded by my own hopefulness,
 and now: caution.
 skepticism.

too many times i've fallen off the deep end,
 wanting so badly to feel something real.

so let me sit here for a moment..
 and maybe i'll yield
 maybe i'll
 drift.