I am afraid...
Of closing the space in-between,
To read into words unspoken;
Feel emotions raging, left unexpressed,
Listen to aches ignored.

I am afraid--
Of basking in stolen smiles,
To see eyes shining, hopeful even in the dark;
Witness hurt borne behind iron resolve,
Absorb the tenderness of love unrequited.

Everyone I meet is beautiful,
But I am afraid to look at anyone anymore...

He shuffles a deck of cards. Plush black backing with a standard face. I watch his hands move elegantly and dextrously, dealing, his hands glide from his pile, to his friends, to mine. Life dealt us very similar cards, though we fan our hands differently and play in polar opposite styles. He is conservative with his plays, preferring to save his hand for opportune moments. A card counter. I am impulsive, high risk for high reward, which usually paid off. No regard for the maths of the game. I glance down at my hand, the soft glow of candles warming out the room and giving the impression of something that someone, somewhere, could mistake for romance. There is no mutual connection. He wears his expression neutrally; I wear my heart on my sleeve. How dangerous for a game of poker. He speaks his mind; I speak my heart. How dangerous for a game of love.

it never felt like the end
it feels unfinished don't you think?
you could have been my best friend

i always thought you would talk to me again
it feels wrong
all of this

and yet
every time you ignore me
i ******* love it


and it ******* excites me

There are still clothes I cannot bring myself to sort,
Still papers lying, crumbling, crumpling their worth -
My life is a mess since you hit me out of kilter
And I can't pick myself up, let alone my belongings;
I can't pick up, get up, grow up, let alone filter
What I need and what I don't, as in my longings
I asked for you - I should have asked to long for breath;
Perhaps I'm just enduring cramp now, in this little death
Of mine - Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow with a fresh head,
Maybe I'll remember my worth, and not with dread
That I am worth so little to you
Who was just one of a few
One of a few you passed by and left a wake,
Awake. How could you know, sweet rake?
How could I know? Disease can often touch us longer
Than we think; its hold, though weakened, is still stronger.