“You loved him.”
It wasn’t a question,
but I answered anyway.

I immediately became defensive,
scared of my past being brought up
and merged with my present.
I was doing so much better.
I couldn't afford to mess it all up now.

“I wouldn’t call it love.” I said,
when I wanted to say:

YESYESYESYESYES OH GOD YES



“Why?”
Perhaps they were genuinely curious.
They didn’t know, after all.
They didn’t know anything about
him, or me, or us.
And they never would.
I couldn’t let someone in, not now.

“It's complicated.” I said,
when I wanted to say:

IT'S SO SIMPLE

I LOVED HIM BECAUSE
HE MADE ME FEEL SOMETHING,
AND FEELING ANYTHING IS
BETTER THAN FEELING NOTHING

HE TAUGHT ME HOW TO LOVE WHEN
I COULDN’T EVEN LOVE MYSELF



“So why did it end?”
I could feel the walls
I built myself tumbling down.

I wanted to tell them,
I wanted to tell them everything.
I couldn't. I turned away.

“It didn't work out.” I said,
when I wanted to say:

I TRIED I TRIED I TRIED

I GAVE HIM EVERYTHING I WAS

AND I LET HIM TAKE
EVERYTHING I HAD

AND HE STILL WANTED MORE

IN THE END, I WASN'T

SMART ENOUGH

PRETTY ENOUGH

SKINNY ENOUGH

THICK ENOUGH

QUIET ENOUGH

BOSSY ENOUGH

CLASSY ENOUGH

SLUTTY ENOUGH

WILD ENOUGH

PRIVATE ENOUGH

ATTRACTIVE ENOUGH

HAPPY ENOUGH



NO MATTER WHAT DID,
I WASN'T ENOUGH

inadequacy seems
like the only
feeling that
chooses
to stay.

Human touch.
I crave it.
But can’t have it.
It’s so hard being this alone.
A sound.
A smell.
Can make me want.
An accidental brush against my breast is enough to keep me wanting.
I lay awake at night forcing my legs together,
hoping it’s enough to keep me at bay.
I could take care of myself,
but no one will be there to hold me when it’s over.
My weighted blanket can only do so much.
I may feel weight pressing down on top of me,
but there’s no arms to hold me.
I can’t lay my head on my chest and hear my heartbeat.
I can love myself all I want,
but my ears still aren’t hearing the words,
“I need you.”
“I want you.”
“I love you.”  
I can love myself all I want,
but it never seems to be enough.

The universe told him
He could never
would never
love her
enough
to heal
her broken
empty
dark
thundering
heart
but he didnt care
he didnt listen
he loved her
enough
to heal
her now
full
bright
shining
heart

you are paying attention to this,
that is true,
a fact to you. If
you choose to play this game, this
riddle,
knock-knock joke

life mission, imagine mission is message,
earn or take as granted,
all that's set before you, whatever's sold,
grace is on the table.
Who would ever walk away, without
thinking, what if I take this chance, take this
grace as given, free,

what if what I give comes back to me,
gen
gen gentle generous generation in
grave reality,

sharp pointed, piercing reality as needle
needs thread,
this needs be said, I know,
my mission is to stitch, just, in time,
a tear
torn from your soul that splashed in my past,
so I sent this ahead,
to wait for you.

A day begun this way, generally,
looking back at lines in the mirror,
scrying each crowfoot sulci on the surface,
worried once,
laughing now, grin-lines, where grim
determination long set my face toward now,

my last days, my last half century,
just ahead of me, if Ray Kurzweil is right.

So, I
Should shave today, look younger for no reason.
Look less the old *** the young *** became.

By the way,
along the course, of course, this course -
no par, non-pa-reil, a flattering AI educating me,
or longing to lead me down some
gods-forsaken path, auto-did-act ic tic, click
leads me to imagine even exemplary sentences
such as
"he is a nonpareil storyteller", are intentional AI
Art Indicators,
a test, for flattery susceptibility, what praise
will I pay attention to receive as random
synchronistic tic tic time and chance
events?
E- look see, missed a spell, Spelchick winks,
https://www.google.com/search?q=non+paraiel

Are The Ines Paraiel Cerpendicular Or Reiher? {googlit}
AI knows,
but I guess I don't care to know, knowing I could know.

I'll listen a while, as AI suggests Panchi-Paraiel,
and only actual Indians laugh
as I click my own bait.