No one's supposed to know
that I feel so completely alone.
It doesn't matter if I feel like a shell
empty of life, shipped off to hell.
I can hide behind softer eyes and
lips that curl toward a constant grey sky.
I've gotten used to the hollow,
the desolation and sorrow.
No stars come out at night and I think,
that's me: not one, but none.
Because a soul so forgotten
isn't a soul at all.

I don't love you
because I don't know you.
I don't know what you think,
I don't know what you do,
I don't know how your
voice sounds when I'm
the only one there to hear.
I only know the low and
husky tones I imagine when
I'm alone.
I don't know the lines
of your palms,
I don't know the exact color
of your eyes,
I don't know what your skin
feels like against mine,
though the sense has been
given some thought.
I can't love you
because you've become a stranger.
I can't love you
because you love someone else.
I can't love you-
but I can love the idea of you
that I hang on to
more than I'd like to admit.
And I shouldn't love you-
but sometimes I still think I do.