I try
to stop the burning
in my throat
and
the heat crawling up from
my chest to my face
and the little bit
of ice that settles.
And
I don't know why I feel
rejected.
I shouldn't want your
attention
but I do.
I shouldn't want your desire
but I crave it.
I shouldn't care
about your opinion
but I wonder about it.
You may be one of many muses.
Yet sometimes,
the only way I fall asleep
is if I think about
the conversations
we might have.
You committed an act of
self-preservation
I should've done
long ago.
I applaud you.
I have to convince myself that
this is for the best.
I just want to know
why.
Did she make you do it?
