weekly episodes of panic attacks.
minimal motivation.
what have I become.

what have we become.

I love you.

and all three of those words
create an uneven frame,
hanging you up closest to my heart.

each night
before I leave,
I reread the sweetest combination of words
anyone has written to me,
and I pretend that you love me too.

I've been blinded
by your sweet eyes,
and forgiving embraces.
Knowing,
I'll never let myself  
look away.

Rivers of tears stream down my face
as I wait for a response
of any kind.
because your company kills me,
but I much rather prefer it
than being alone
on these cold
winter nights.