Resiliently, my emotions murmur:
I don’t know where to write about it
But sometimes,
At least once a month
My need to hear from you builds up
Into a stalker-ish urge,
From which I have no recourse
It is funny now to find how similarly our minds work
Though perhaps not funny at all
A little piece of myself that has become you
A series of mutual coincidences
Yeah.
Don’t you realize that it is this loneliness
That pushed me over the edge to start with
The sudden and complete desolation
Of being untouched and spoken to
Spoken for
Or touched but not spoken to?
I am incomplete and unfinished.
I am corruptible and unsatisfied.
I am weak and manipulable.
The only truth is that I am alone, and have been.
We must talk.
Rapunzel,
If you had undone your locks,
I could have done more than scale your tower.
Rapunzel,
If you had offered your ‘cord,
I could have called on you in your bower.
Over your guard of stony distance,
Over your walls of strong resistance,
I could have said hello.
Feigned nonchalance does not fool
My body
Your solace is arrhythmia
The wobbling, teetering
Too-loud heartbeat Of
your captive
Pen-mate
Your solace is arrhythmia
A fluctuating victory
Whose only term:
I suffer.
Predictable Enigma
And I, broken
Would be yours
Is that it?
I would,
I’m sure.
And yet,
Only your craving for chaos
Would make me stay.
Double-turned
The point was hammered: my protocol is off, hurtful.
I know it.
The point was hammered so I broke:
Not one more blow.
Recorded for Sincerity
I know what your apology says:
I’m sorry I wasn’t what you wanted
I’m sorry I couldn’t convince you to stay with me
I’m sorry that you were unhappy
I’m sorry that I snapped at you
And I wish I hadn’t said I never wanted to speak to you again
Because in reality I do
Every day
The way we used to talk
But not now
With the prospect of your misdeeds looming overhead.
Oh yes, I know what your apology says,
And I know that it doesn’t compare
With the apology I owe you.
Problems
It would sound empty
if I were to say it again and again
the way that I need to
the way that it strikes me
I MISS YOU.
Every day the desperate SOS
seems farther and farther away
I love you
and it seems as though
time will break us, after all.
Reassurance
I need some reassurance
that you are thinking of me and only me
that occasionally I consume you
own you
enrapture you
I need some reassurance
that you are thinking of me and only me
or I won’t be able
to continue this.
The Sticking Point
You can’t just forget
Love
And I loved you
I’ll never be over it
I’ll just want to be
I’ll never be over it
But I’ll never be over him
And that, my dear,
Is the sticking point.
Knew.
Everyone who knew me,
knew.
You knew me too,
didn’t you?