You collect love
and kisses
the way
I collect
my dignity and
broken heart
on the floor.
I sift through
all the things
left undone
and all the
words left
unsaid
and find myself
coming back
for a little
bit more.
Maybe if I
carry your
burdens and
battle your
demons for you
you'll learn
to love me
too.
I lust after the God you worship. I want to believe in him the same way you believe that He will give you the signs on what to do and who to love. I want to believe in the miracles you orgasm over. I want to feel the bliss you work so very hard for and earn with acts of random kindness.
But I offer no positive reciprocity. No enthusiasm on your interpretation of the good book.
I just politely nod and smile.
You're my most cruel obsession
You'll pull me in just to shove me away
making sure
I bruise somehow
every time.
Uncertainty is
the most evil
quality of our love.
That,
and the fact
that this is one sided.
Unrequited.
I'm still here though
just waiting
for the next punishment;
for any sight of you
affection, a sliver
of your love;
a splinter of care.
Anything from you
is better than nothing;
better than loneliness.
"I'm not pretty" she says.
He kisses her instead. He wants to tell her how pretty she is but she'll never believe him. Especially now.
I don't know what's more unbearable: That you're too faraway from me or that you're here, just there where I can reach you, touch you but I'm not allowed to.
