There’s something about keeping
wounds open that feels better
than letting them heal.

To have fallen so
unexpectedly
into the company of an alluring
stranger.

The all-consuming infatuation
with those azure irises
and their blinking
benevolence.

To yearn to hear
his voice
as he unravels words unto everyone
but me.

The kisses that
have fallen at the feet
of the pedestal
he stands upon.

To hear him speak of
her
with the same desire
that I
think of him.

To watch those azure irises
stray their attention
to her golden braids.

The silence
as it becomes a knife
that--
slowly--
kills me.