asasser

 I'm standing in my bedroom Aimlessly staring at familiar sights as if they are not there. I'm considering the love letters I never sent, The depth of this churning in my soul For which no word is ever good enough. I wander to the closet door, to the couch, to the bathroom, back to the bed. I wonder at the upturned face, sad eyes, restless spirit that is you. What cheap trade, what unworthy currency-- This language to which I'm bound. Dizzied and muddled and lost in the mish-mosh, A jumbled reel of your eyes, your lips, your hair, your hands. I am tortured and terrified, Desperate and deluded, Wanting and wanton. And still, it is not enough

Let me love you. Let me hold you close, Wipe your tears, Stroke your cheek, And adore you. Let me fall at your feet And worship you. Let me kiss you, Tender and soft, Reverent and chaste. Let me fill my days With all that you are, And my nights With all I can give. You don't have to love me, You don't owe me anything. But when the tables are turned, When it comes to loving you, Let me.

I’m starving. Wasting away inch by precious inch, diminishing, fading.   The commonly used verbs are not enough— ache, need, want, yearn, long for. They do not cover the depth at which you swim, tugging at my soul.   I am already drowning; pull me further under.   Oblivion would be a welcome change, a chance to revel in the fantasy of you rather than the constant admonishing self-talk and series of don’ts. If I die while I dream, am I in that world forever?