Heart-Talk

The letter you will never get

dear you,

i’m in love.
yes. you were
waiting, i
bet, for this. 
this time, though,
it is not 
what you would 
think. it’s me 
this time, not 
you, although 
it’s still you, 
but not in 
the way it 
used to be 
you. it’s my 
fault this time,
my doing,
my painful,
pitiful,
suffering.
it’s you in
the sense that
i cannot 
control you.

this time,

it’s your mind and your thoughts
the things that slip off of your tongue
the words you put, pencil to paper
the ideas that come out in your songs

it’s your eyes and your sight
the careful observation of beauty
the need to bask in warm, pure light
the stare you give me, rarely now

it’s your movements and your touch
the hugs where you grip my shoulders
the times where i’m drunk and playing with your fingers
the warmth you give off and your gorgeous smile

none of them 
are mine to 
have, to take
to keep, to
love, to break

i miss you 
and to go
and detach
to break what 
we have, that’s 
the hard way
out. but i
am trying
to help me.

i feel the
same way i
did when you
said i was
wrong about 
this. about
how i feel.

i try to
not panic
and quiet
sob in the
bathroom at
3:27 am
every night.

i’m hoping
disposing 
myself of
you, means that
the dreams will
go away
too. but if
they stay, 
i’ll give you
a quick call.
probably
a text, to
be honest.

i love you,
unhealthily,
with every
part of me.

keep in touch,
please.

love,

me.