I dream of you,
calling my name for help.
And I remember
how truthful I was—
thinking of ways
to reach your hand,
though I knew
this was only a dream.
I saw the glimmer
of a crushed tear
falling from you,
and I burned—
with pain,
with rage for you.
I tried to catch you,
ignoring the doubt,
ignoring the truth of sleep.
All I knew—
you are always my child,
and I will follow no other truth,
even if it costs me
my entire life.
I wept,
calling your name
a thousand times,
trying to soothe you
while you cried.
I wanted—
all at once—
to catch your hand,
to kiss your forehead,
to calm you,
to forgive you,
to pray to God
that this was real,
not a dream.
I woke,
and cried in rage.
How could you be
only in my dreams,
and not in my present,
nor my future?
When I woke,
I took revenge on myself—
smoked two packs of cigarettes,
stood beneath
a cold-water shower—
knowing it is, scientifically,
a “benefit,”
but choosing it
because it is the thing
I hate the most in life.
I denied myself popsicles,
and every small pleasure
my body craves.
That terrifies me.
Yet all prayers belong to you.
I wish to touch your fear again
and tear it apart—
to steal you from the darkness,
to consume your terror,
your misery.
I spend my days without you,
without your honeyed words—
the ones you and I both know
were only for your gain,
vanishing the moment
I refused to give
what you wanted.
And still,
despite knowing,
I loved you.
God knows
I am ready to take you back,
to accept your sins,
your narcissism.
I prefer to cry beside you
than laugh with someone else.
It terrifies me—
the thought of being happy
with someone else.
It chills me to imagine
my loyalty belonging
to anyone but you,
to imagine walking past you
and pretending you’re not there.
I reject it all.
I want to remain
forever and always
available to you—
so that if you ever
knock on my door,
you’ll find the heart
that once held you
still burning,
still dying for you.
I cannot help
but stay loyal.
I made a book cover
with the ache to write you
hundreds of poems.
And I bought you
a vital necklace—
to mark the memory of our first meeting,
to symbolize my love for you,
to show that every part of me
belongs to you.
I intended to fill it with my blood—
a proof, in the most extreme, impossible way,
of my love for you.
But know this—
this necklace is just a simple gift.
You know, it is not only drops of my blood for you,
I am entirely yours.
I am ready, in every possible way,
to prove my love to you—
but you are not here
to receive it.
To prove,
in every unreasonable,
impossible way,
that I love you—
that I can do nothing in this life
but yearn for you.
Day and night taste bitter.
The sea feels far away,
hope feels far away—
and you.
When you blocked me,
I hired multiple Ubers
just to use their phones
to reach you.
I called,
I cried,
I said “I love you”
again and again,
while you hung up.
Even the drivers
felt the intensity of my love for you,
but you did not.
You fed on my tears,
yet I do not blame you now.
I am only afraid—
afraid every time I want to call you,
afraid every time I press your number,
my heart races,
my colon aches,
and I pull back.
Now I speak to God about you,
to the world about you,
to every wave, every bird, every cat
that crosses my path—
I ask them to pray for your return.
Yes, I want you,
and the thought of you being with someone else terrifies me.
Even knowing
that your disorder thrives on staying for gain,
that you will love only yourself,
and only remain with those
who feed you materially, emotionally, spiritually—
I still love you.
Sometimes I pity you,
sometimes I blame your family,
sometimes I fear for you
from your own self,
the self that commands evil.
Sometimes I fear someone might report you,
and you end up in prison…
I am full of fear and ruin.
God, save me.
I am terrifyingly yearning for you,
without confidence,
with great fear
that God might give me
someone “better.”
But He knows
I need no one better than you.
You are my complete,
complicated drug.
If I had great luck with another,
I’d give it to my sisters
so they could be happy—
but for me,
You and only you.
I would spend my life
fixing your uncontainable pieces,
putting them together,
so we could be whole.
I fear being happy with anyone else.
You are my child, my husband,
the thought of you being alone and hungry at night
kills my sleep.
I dare not abandon your childish soul.
I must be prepared
to always be there.
My Lord,
I know You love me,
I know You want to give me the best—
but I need him,
and only him.
No one can touch my feelings
but him.
I am ready
to give up my happiness
for the honor
of being torn apart
beside him.