Alone I walk
across the windswept plains.

Drifting.

I am forgotten
Not a presence,
Nor a ghost

Drifting.

I open my eyes and scan the horizons
looking for anything to cleave to

Forsaken, I am
and too, forlorn
Where are you?

I am in the wasteland of your thoughts.
These things that pass me by
are faint, lifeless

So what am I?
Not even a memory.

My best friend did steal my heart.
I didn't catch it when it happened,
only after it broke did I notice
something very wrong.

Stealing hearts.

Thief in the night,
leaving me to wake up to an empty house.

What is not is easier to see than what is.
I recognize more of what I'm not than what I am.
I understand what I don't want but not so much what I do want.

But maybe this is simply another lie I've sold to myself.
Maybe I really do know what is but I turn from it for fear of being wrong, being myself.
It's difficult to navigate when you are told that you are not your own and yet to be yourself.

I close my eyes and think about evaporating...

First my eyes.
Eyes tight shut, I imagine my evaporating eyes streaming into the sky like cigarette smoke.
                                                                                                                                                       No.
             Eyes are much to dense to rise.
            
Slowly at first then faster,
    the fog rolls out of lids
                      flows down my cheek
                                 like the smoke from dry ice.

My skin gently wafts away in the still, calm breeze

My hair like a candle flame,
                      flickering and swaying in the wind.
                                   Growing larger and smaller and larger again

My muscles sink to ground, spreading in a misty puddle beside me.

I can feel the hollowing of my face,
                 wind scoops caverns out of my cheeks and temples.

Finally only my bones remain.
                             Steaming hot in the cool air.

Along comes a gust of wind.
                       My bones are swept into the air like ash,
                                             my flames extinguished.

Your voice is so shrill,
you squawk like a decrepit crow.
Just... please stop talking.

I guess it doesn't matter how much  I love you,
   you don't even like me.
But for all the while I've loved you,
  it's only just occurred to me...
  I don't like you either.

Last week we decided to just be friends
Even though I like you and you like me
It’s clear that now, friends is all we can be
Our union is something no one recommends.
We’re too polar, for even our own pretends
Your Aquarian audacity
Coupled with my religiosity
We just don’t mix well, there are no “depends”
As we share our brains through books and music
We also share philosophy on life
Though to be “together” would prelude strife
Our contrasting faiths may seem ironic
But such conflicts will bode cuts like a knife
'Guess I rather would keep this platonic.