fine, fine, love, fine.

four hundred miles away, with my love;
fragile wings free to wave, content in my place.
my mind ceasing to fret over trivial dramatics.
i hope to hold this sense of ease far long,
but this will never entail those diseased thoughts.
despite no need to worry or feel insecure,
in the midst of the best, i am unable to stop entirely;
    please tell me why -
i cried so hard, last night, in those arms.
"i just want to be good enough."
i apologized so much, last night, with shaky words.
"i need to be perfect."
and the worst mistruth of all, "i am fine."
because we all know what FINE stands for.
but i swear, i am trying.
i wish never to hurt my love.