The brain is a machine

Negligence

Every night I sit in my satin bed staring at the starry sky. I see your brightened eyes; outlined as if your face were a constellation. 

My clouded mind wanders into my internal dictionary where I think of words to describe you. For hours I wander further and compare you to everything imaginable. I make up conversation. I create foreign worlds where you and I are together. I enter a house of portals where each takes me to a world where you love me as much as I love you. When I exit, I am drowned in despair and loneliness. How can I receive nothing from the person I love most?

Questions haunt my conscience while my lips touch my reflection in the mirror. Self love they would call it. I call it self pity when my lips touch the reflective, tear-soaked glass.

I named my right hand your first name- my left is your last. They search my body for the feelings I bare to you. They grip my throat to suffocate the gentle cries for death.

I exist as pawn in a game where you are the king and I am the pheasant which dies at your feet.
But to die at your feet would be too beautiful- too glamorous.

Instead I am tormented- locked inside a cage residing in a white-walled room where windows and doors do not exist, and the only additional item is your hanging portrait. Confined to my boundaries, all I have of you is a picture.

The most beautiful goddamn picture.