- Your moans in my ear
- My hands in your hair
- Your head between my legs
- The scratches down my back
- Our bodies pressed together
- The arched back
- The curled toes
- The gasp for air right before you collapse
But then, my knees give under me.
My head feels weak and suddenly
it is clear to see that it is not them but me,
who has lost my self-identity.
As I hide behind these books I read,
while scribbling my poetry,
like art could save a wretch like me,
with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve.
And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me.
And everything I made is trite and cheap and a waste
of paint, of tape, of time.
Every time I think I’m finally over you and I haven’t thought about you in such a long time…. you come right back into my life and make me fall in love with you all over again. I just want to be with you more than anything else in this world, but each day I realize how unrealistic that dream is. It’s almost impossible for us, but I’ll never give up.
There’s absolutely no one in this world that I can rely on.