September 2005

I sit here, in my shell,
and I can't seem to feel anything at all.
Because when that cloud
of loneliness
wraps itself around you,
it suffocates any opportunity
for feeling.
Have you ever felt this way?
I doubt it,
because I have never left you alone.
Not once.
Not even
when you ran from me,
harboring fear of our future.
Not even
when you moved out of the state.
I was there at the drop of a hat
and at the turn of a whim,
I was there.
And I have been here,
thinking about you, still.
Both without motion and
throughout the passing of time.
Thinking, about how I might strangle you,
thinking about how hard you've made it.
Thinking about the numerous ways
I might
let myself die
without it being suicide
because I know that if I killed myself
you would most definitely
and inconsolably
be upset.
But that's my goal, isn't it?
To make sure that you do not, ever,
get upset.
So I smile
and I walk
and I live,
and pretend
to have fun,
but never have I had fun
when you weren't there to allow it.
So now
I listen to music that you'll never hear,
A mixtape or two of my heart,
a playlist deleted,
the fascinating lyrical sketch
of pain.
Can't you see?
Aren't you an artist?
I can't encapsulate that in words.
I truly do not think it possible,
but here I am trying.
Remind you of anything?
Useless, isn't it? Dreaming, I mean.
Thinking that I might someday "get you back."
Revenge or rehabilitation. Either works.
Thinking, that someday I might again be happy.
Thinking, just thinking.
You know as well as I do
that it is all I do these days.
But really, I should hate you.
But, I shouldn't.
It is not your fault that you didn't know
that you weren't really in love.
You had all the symptoms.
Or at least,
you thought you did.
I thought you did.
Maybe you did.
You were,
at least,
in what your heart determined
your version of love.
But your version has been tainted.
By smarmy, backstabbing bastards
and abusers
and sex,
and television
and alcohol
and your new life.
Your new friends.
Your new location and
your new music and
your new personality.
Your new attitude.
Toward me, toward everyone.
You don't care anymore, It seems, about me
or what we had.
Really, it shouldn't be important.
I'm getting over it.
I have this new girl in mind.
She is cute, she is boring.
She's average.
She doesn't like me, either.
But I can always hope
that someday
if I do ever fall for her,
it will at least help me to
erase the memory that I have
of you.