I am not allowed to care.

Because when I start caring, you start caring,
Hearts flowing, blood beating,
something rises
From the farthest reaches of my stomach,
Crawling up to weave its way into my voice,
Eyes, ears, mouth, coloring words,
Staining thoughts with an endless:
“Well that was stupid.... What do I do now?”
Because if I care, we’re through.

Through.

No more stupid texts about what wine we’re drinking,
Or times to meet, or places to see, hands to hold,
Sideways looks, or ridiculously awkward moments
When you laugh at me but

I'm smiling

Because that laugh means that at least
You’re
noticing me.

No more caresses, no more heat racing through
Veins that reshape to accommodate
The increase of feeling,
The sensation of you;
No more arms from behind
At 3am the first night I slept over
No more whisper, no more “Hey,
I’m right here. See? You aren’t alone.”
No. Not allowed. There is no ‘us.’
Not in words, not to talk about;

“I don’t want a relationship.”
Read between the lines, little girl,

“I don’t see myself in a relationship [with you].”
So many lies masked by smiles
And staged little chuckles

“Well, neither do I. So can’t we just do this?”
It’s too late.

I am not allowed to care.
But I do. And now the first lie
Is told, attached, stuck, leading out into the framework
Of a web already begun,
A sticky spider’s trap spun a thousand times before.

No.

I do not care. This means nothing.
Nothing at all.

And the only reason I'm
saying that, screaming that,
turning these words over and over in my head...

Is because I’ve already fallen.