That look.
That look. It has kept me up, got me through.
You desired me.
Where did it go?
Is it me? Was it you?
The something that was there for so long
it seems.
You saw me, and wanted me anyway.
Or thought you did.
Has it really gone?
Where do I put my sadness?
Do I pour it back into myself, through the cuts in
my skin from my vicious words?
Of course he went off me.
He saw me.
Or do I blame you?
User. Liar. Wanter. Coward. Weak.
Or do I just find a way to live with the sadness
that we wanted each other but couldn't
have each other. You weren't mine to have, even
if you wanted to be.
So where has it gone? Our connection, our
attraction, our lust and hope?
It stays with me as the lump in my throat when
I think of our diverging futures.
As the silent goodnight I say to the side which
has now become 'yours'.
As the dream-you who visits me often.
As the hope I cling to for 'one day'.
But not this day.