but thinking about how
happy you make me makes me
so sad, and full of self-pity
  for ever having lived without you

sometimes my fingers find spots
on your skin that they like to
gently scratch and I wonder,
if I gently, sweetly stroked one spot
for an infinite amount of time,
would I eventually wear into a
vital ***** and bleed you out?
   because a gentle wave, over
   time, turns mountains
   into fractions

and I guess I'd probably lose my finger first
but still, I wonder.

I do know one thing though, I know
that one day we will miss this twin bed
  and we complain
but I have found that it is
my favorite way to sleep
and the only way to keep
at bay the flood of aloneness
that presses against my chest every day

     I should try to give myself some credit.

I am trying to give myself some credit,
but then there's you.