I speak to you
Through poems I didn't write,
Silence that screams the outcome
Of our lack of action,
And love like a language
You will never understand.

i spend my evenings wrapped in blankets
repeating memories through body
we inherited a hurting
that began far back before
either one of us
were alive

now

we are left, we are here
we should be celebrating
the survival of our ancestors
just by being together
but instead i spend my days alone
waiting for you to
say you love me again.

"i miss you"
has become a secret mantra
i live it out
in silence, with
a smile as a defence.

saying it out loud
to you, to anyone
would be a crime
for there are some dark places
one simply cannot revisit.

i’m trying to be strong but i have to admit

living without you

ruins me.

*the hurting continues

i scanned the room and wondered silently how many of these people
would care if i died,
how many would come to my funeral,
what kind of things they would say about me if i
ceased to exist.

i sat by myself
watching them
all the handsome talented boys interacted with the other
handsome talented boys
all the dilettantes interacted with the other dilettantes,
and all the other people just
interacted with the other people.

they made it look so easy,
so comfortable, so almost fun.
so impossible

i became so far removed from myself
i could hardly breathe
i was watching the people and all i could think of
was how badly i wanted death
perhaps not literal death,
but i wanted desperately to **** the part of me that would never be like
the people,
the part of me they don't
understand. the separated
part.

it's an illness.

so i sat alone in a bathroom stall waiting for the next musician to start
wondering when he would call me up on stage
so i could sing
and leave.
the stage is the only place
i feel at peace. i don't have to talk for them
i only need to sing for me.

they were everywhere, i was surrounded by them
i sat alone,
watching them
watching them
unable to complete a single sentence
or feeling
of any kind.

i probably fell in love with you
the moment you asked if you could have
one of my menthol Marlboros
it's too bad
the closest i'll ever get to you was
the moment you lit your cigarette
off of mine, inches away
from my face
it's too bad
i wouldn't let you get closer
even if you tried
it's too bad
she gets to call you hers
it's too bad
i'll probably never see you again anyway.

just the fact that you exist
keeps my heart afloat
and puts my mind at ease.