I don't think I'll be forgetting
any time soon at least
how you laugh and smile and joke around
and how cold you were to me
I think I'll be moping and languishing
beating myself up for retreading old ground
expecting new things to spring from a well untapped by me
I tried to stay on your good eye's side
so you could watch me watch you breathe
attempt to triangulate your essence
to duplicate your whims
to unify us
or at least to create an orbit that will
(conceivably)
carry us infinitesimally closer and closer
apart
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 6:40 AM UTC
Terrors of the waking, existential variety are what keep me up nights.
I know no pursuit, no entrapment. No attachment, in fact, at all.
I drift through life as I do my dreams: aimlessly, dispassionately, at turns bemused and bewildered, beset by a sense of inevitable end.
Ends*,
so soon and so frequent.
Forays into fuller living are inherently half-hearted -
self-fulfilling prophecies of loneliness.
I am never quite at ease in relationships, always looking out for new anxieties to be had, faking a brave face for any you have.
You. Whenever I write what comes out is a love letter (of some kind)
addressed to you, but without the proper postage
words that never hit home, that never ring true
words, half meant or never spoken.
I play-act at devotion, and, that mask falling away, affect grievous emotion.
It's not who pushes whom, but mutual magnetic repulsion.
We turn around and around, looking each other over until we each settle on a face that drives us apart in perfect unison.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC