Commit me in a relationship,
and liken it to an insane asylum
because the doctors all tell me my psychosis is named you
and my symptoms are a ****** up case of withdrawal.

It’s only been a month
but in that time I’ve discovered a whole new galaxy of emotions.
Tell me everything, and say yes if I ask to chart you across the night sky.
The time we’ve spent is accented
by just how few hours we’ve been apart.
Despite all of this,
despite every certainty that makes you mine and mine yours,
I can’t say I love you.

I want to say I love you but I can’t,
because I—I care more about the death toll in Syria
and I’m worried about the water crisis,
even if it is still half a century away.
I can’t love you because I’m scared for the world and what will happen when it’s not I in it,
but we.

This makes the whole situation ******* ironic, because you think it makes me a more compassionate person, but that’s not it at all!
It me a coward!
It makes me… unsure.

But in the two hours since you went home to see your folks I realized that you are the addiction that sends me over.
I want you so much it makes my skin itch,
I would tear it off but for the blood running red with passion beneath.
I would seek escape in sleep, but you are my dreams
and to awake away from you hurts more than a heart attack
Which I am sure I’m having because I’ve been unable to breath since you’ve been away
And I finally know why, because I can’t smell you, can’t taste you, can’t feel your pheromones jerking mine along the biological need that centers them.

And I SCREAM!
I throw things about and walk outside thinking my head needs a distraction.
But everything that could help grabs me and wants to know why you’re not here too,
and everyone that can help is so oblivious to your absence that it becomes infuriating.
I want to tie them down with your hair so they can feel it brush against their skin,
I want to carve your name onto their eyes so they know my urgency,
I want to have them long, long for you, and then tell me to relax.
I want to rip my skin off and show them how red the passion gets.

And I want you, and want you and want you and WANT YOU!
But I can’t!
I can’t say I love you because I don’t,
I’m obsessed with you!
And I’m not sure I want to be.