I try to forget you
Yet your name
Keeps propping up
Like blooming darkness
In my feeble mind
Upon my pillow covers
Under my sheets
Looming to draw me in
Weakened by your absence
I’m convincing myself
You’ll be back
My evening kisses
& morning lust

Do not look at me like that.
With those eyes that see only what is shone to you.
And you accept all of it.
No questions asked.
No logic, no reason to seek.
No.
I am not just an object you can look at.

Do not look at me like that.
With the judgment of their thoughts
That you so shamelessly replicate
in your feeble, feeble mind.
No originality.
You bore me in your dullness.
No.
I am not who you think I am.

Do not look at me like that.
With ears filled with their whispers.
I can hear them too, you know.
You're not very discreet.
No.
I am not defined by the stories they say.

I am not an open book,
Or a single shade,
Or a monotone.
I feel nothing for their interests.
I am not alive in their ballads of woe.

I am alive in myself.
I am the abstract, I am the obtuse.
My colors, range to infinity.
My stories have happy sad tormenting everafters.
I do not care for their hollow affection or their false ratification.
I am unattached and I breathe fire--
in.
out.

I'm ablaze in my little place of ease.
Even alone, I have found my love...
She was there along.
Residing in me,
It was always--
me.

*I am myself. That is enough.