no i'm not "okay"
one minute up, the next minute down
i can't tell what's me or what's not
are these voices mine?

the whispers inside
urge me to listen
to do as they say
and slowly fade away

Wake up
Shower
Pretend it's ok
Work through this
The day
Wake up
It's ok
To cry
And remember the
Days

When I was young,
My parents kept me locked at home,
For I was a terror in the streets.

"I love you"

I love you more

"I miss you"

I miss you too

"We need to talk"

What did I do?

"It's me, not you"

Is it really?

*no response

we used to walk downtown
close to Christmas
you would be stoic and quiet
I would get excited over anything we saw

you wrote poems about me
you told me the most wonderful stories
I always listened
when you called me your little Sunlet

I loved you
I still do

to love a poet is not the same as to be loved by a poet.
to be loved
is so much more fulfilling
I loved you

moon

-L