The imperfect vessel of your love

It is difficult to keep myself from constantly questioning a permanent choice
like love
To say, this is how I feel and will always feel
when every week I change
and think different thoughts
and have different interests
like diving link by link
through a late night on Wikipedia

My eyes turn so red from the lack of sleep
the clock working against my desire
to know something well
and to have another thought to consider
where there had been none

I used to wonder if I could mold you into
what I had previously thought of as an ideal partner
but increasingly
I see that it is impossible
and unethical
and wrong

You don't care about things that are less than immediate
to a fault
you see the world like an endless reel of images
instead of a static wall
every instance is current and in need of being addressed or avoided
then and now

It is like we live on two different planes of existence sometimes
I don't ever want to talk about my day at work
and you seemingly only want to
I want to aspire to a new reality
and you want to set dates for likely plans

There are things you can never be
the limitation of any person
but now I think that is ok
It is not always exciting
but when you reach a certain age
so few things are

Do people talk about music anymore
song to song
now that every musician is known
and accessible instantly
will the collective memory cease
to feel music?

Will absorbing lyrics be only a running commentary on reality
a non-fiction story
that needs to be "important" or it is functionless?

Will two young people be able to speak to each other in
the way I used to, with the few bright lights
I stumbled onto along the way

Now i realize that I am the most imperfect vessel for your love
a restless, impractical monolith
who strived when there was a future
but struggles when there is only the present

I am not a comforter or empathic in an obvious way
I am unemotional about my own life
in nearly every aspect

But some times I do feel overwhelemed
when I see somebody else
in existential anguish
but I don't know what this means
or why it happens

I don't know when I lost my emotions
and replaced them with constant, quiet
coldness

It's comical how emotionally intelligent you are
speaking about eveything and understanding everything in those terms
and I am like
the stupid stuffed animal on the bed
a slight smile always on my face
but nothing but fluff underneath