Sensible, I'd
think it was the way.
Your heart grew claws
that latched on to my skin
and I wore your obsession
like an overcoat that smells like
mothballs because I was ashamed
to wear it for so long.

And I wrote you
eighty page love notes filled with
all of my nonsensical prose just
so you'd never know exactly
what it is I dream.

And at night I'd pretend
you're lying next to me, a warm
presence for a stiff like me.
And for once my cheeks
would be rose and my
eyes a little lighter,
but in the morning
you're never there
and I am only
human
once again.