Being with you is like being in a labyrinth with no exit
And at every turn
And every corner
Awaits a monster I don't want to face
Endless allusions
And inexhaustible reminders
Of bogeymen from my childhood days
Every night - an expectation of dread
Fulfilled in myriad creative ways
Every day - painfully predictable
Our conversations a pointless loop
Being with you is like being imprisoned
A life sentence with no plea bargain.
And if my tears were pearls,
I'd have all the oceans' worth of jewels with me.
Even though you're here,
it feels like you died a while ago.
It feels like you're a spirit
Here to soften the blow.
And every day, I wake under the illusion
That we're still together
And as the day matures,
The realization sinks in
That you've actually been gone
For a while now.
I'm like an Alzheimer's patient
Who has to remember their lover's name
Afresh
Every single day.
And in the beginning, my poems were about desire and longing.
But as the love withered, I went silent.
Until one day, the poetry returned.
Only this time, my poems are about sadness and wondering
Wondering where it all went wrong.
I always knew, our story would end before the world ever knew it had begun. Like the sound of a falling tree in an empty forest - real, yet non-existent, with no one to hear and no one to mourn.
You love me,
But not enough to spare me nightmares.
You want me,
But not enough to stop fantasizing about other women.
My poems were about too much
And yours, if they were to exist,
Would be about too little.
And never the twain shall meet.