The doctor called today
to inform me that I have a
critical case of you:
tears hang heavy in my heart always.
but I never cry,
I never sleep
but dreams dance in my consciousness always.
In the night
I shiver as the dark settles in my lungs
in the morning
I am blinded by the light.
I shattered all the mirrors in the house
in a rage, because
I cannot agree with them.
I have taken to self-medicating,
reading tales of me, in an alternate reality
where I have love and tranquility and a little sanity,
and no you.
But my symptoms are worsening
every day with you,
and twice as much
every day without.
The diagnosis knows one antidote,
a terribly plaintive remedy.
All this is to say,
I think I need your help.