We haven’t spoken for weeks.
You act like it’s been hours.
You have no idea how you rob me.
I deserve better but I can’t find a replacement for the thought of you in my mind.
We speak cheerful – flirt every time.
We speak with a lover’s intimacy but the frequency of a near-stranger,
And it makes me feel like shit.
I always hold myself back for your benefit.
I don’t want to scare you away.
I’ve done that before and we haven’t talked for months –
You’re a seasoned ghost it seems.
We can go all out on the sex talk
(my hands always become yours –
you still look at my pictures and get yourself there)
but if I dare tell you the truth –
That I care for you so much it makes my heart ache.
I’d be struck off.
Whenever you get in touch and then go, I always find myself wishing my tablets would let me cry more readily.
It builds up like a plaque and drains me from the brain to the stomach.
I haven’t felt like this since teen was at the end of my age and I just want to share it with you.
I feel ridiculous.
My feelings spent on you – such a waste.
But it isn’t,
Because I can’t spend them on anyone else.
We’d fit so right if you’d let me anywhere near you.
You make my face drop for hours and I can’t lift it.
The room darkens and I have nightmares about feeling lost and inadequate.
This sadness makes me ill.
You strip me of my wellness with your constant absence.
Half an hour chat – where you wave intimacy in my face,
I’m fine on my own, when you leave me alone for long periods –
A little lonely, I dwell a bit but not a lot. Not too much.
You live in that radio silence.
I feel violently deprived,
When you leave,
And you do.