in loving you, every memory that i have of myself has dissolved into nothingness

coffee in the morning is no longer sufficient why

has my head become a globe that can barely balance on its tiny pedestals?

in my solipsistic dreams somehow i can see your silhouette

even in the solace of my slumber you still manage to penetrate my inner most and intimate thoughts

like a shadow
that strays from the light

particles that amass and then leave again

the daisy to my gatsby-esque ideals of romance and hope

shaky visuals brought on by a familiar melody that conjures a memory that has given me stockholm syndrome

you are the captor but i

i am a willing victim

if hannibal lecter could dine on his friends, you can have me as dessert

and it wouldn't matter, for my life

has till this moment, been devoid of the one thing everybody seeks

love, in all its permutations and essence.