Friday, 25 April 2014

The Lover, Half-Hearted

Somewhere between Friday evening and Saturday morning, I fall in love.
But then,
Monday comes too soon and I know that now it will be over.
Because in the days that follow I lose you. A little more with each day,
The distance grows.
By Wednesday, the clutch I have upon any hope dissipates.
And I hold on so tight to it, I begin to feel a fool.
By Thursday my heart breaks in pity at itself.
It's foolish, lonely overzealous beating.
For something that does not exist. that cannot be real.
I wait. I wait for you to want me, enough
That you can't stop yourself from reaching for me,
Before I reach for you. I'll give in.
Wondering whether if I didn't...
 "would I see you at all- would I hear anything?"
I don't understand this part time...thing.
You have a life so separate from me I don't even know you.
If you don't ever feel like you fall over yourself,
If you are never going to be overwhelmed
If you don't want me enough to respect that my time
is as precious as yours...
Let me go.
Tidal doesn't work.
I get swept away in the repetition.
The melancholy of unknowing.
This is not mere independence.
Independent suits me just fine.
This is alone.
Another Friday morning.
My belly churns, my body heavy.
The excitement at the prospect of seeing you
The anticipation....
Long since disappeared.
Now I am only lost in self conservation.
I should listen to my begging heart.
Growing tired of being torn.
But instead, here we are.
It's Friday.
I fall in love.

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