i start to mourn it
when its not over.
my body leaves traces
of unspoken distortions
of reality in motion:
our first kiss, our first
date, our first hopes and
mistakes, will they matter
in the long run, will they
turn into a free fall?
trying to cherish what we
have gone through i feel
so isolated by your unspeakable
truths, your saddened distance
is a blessing in disguise: i fear
i can not look you any longer in
the eyes. your remarkable sighs,
the silence that stomps on the tip
of your tongue whenever i tell you
all i want is to talk, all i want is to
have you, feel you close, make you
promise i am the one thing you really,
really want. i find myself wondering if
that's all because i never had you in
the first place: i wouldn't be begging
you to tell me if you were truly mine,
if you were on my side. i feel unloved
and unlovable, it's not your fault if
you don't show what you can't show,
it's not your fault. all i've ever wanted
in this life was to feel that someone chose
me, prioritized me over everything and
everyone: i've prayed for that kind of thing
to happen with the desperation of a small
insect not to be pushed against the wall.
that will ultimately be my downfall: to still
believe i am not worthy if i am not being
loved, to believe life was meant to be lived
in love, haven't i had enough? i spend days
paralysed in bed, crying my eyes out to the
memory of a future tense in which you are
something i can come to, a home, a haven,
a muddy love letter. i can no longer wait
for you to be mine. you've never wanted that.
yet i don't want to be alone, i don't want to let
it go. why should i speak hard truths when i can
devour sweet blindness? why should i believe
it's over? lingering has always been my worst
and best endeavour. i just wish you made the effort.
staying would be less painful.
