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.

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.

The point was hammered: my protocol is off, hurtful.
I know it.
The point was hammered so I broke:
Not one more blow.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Everyone who knew me,
 knew.
You knew me too,
didn’t you?