There’s a collection I keep of famous poets' poems,
of which were most about love.
Because I feel like it is much more easier
to see love in other people's ways,
because I can't simply find my own.


You force me into this illusion,
not because you make me feel affection,
but because it is the absence of your love
that baffles me so--
of which pulls me in. That despite our shared touches,
it is only fleeting and weak, fading like rain
under the heating sun.


That I am the earth you burn like matches to gasoline, and
you're the sun, pulling in others until they bathe in your
undying inferno. Never your love.