Whenever you are around me, exhaustion seems to be constant.  I understand and try not to take it personally.  I have that effect on people.  Since everything shifted, the only constant is impermeability.  People, like clouds, float in and out of my life.  I’ve proposed it was a test to see if I could handle loving people as much as I do and feeling nothing in return.

I think of a night long ago, where I laid next to him in my bed.  My body and heart screamed to kiss him, beg him for his love, but my mind insisted I remain quiet.  I watched him toss and turn, instead.  Sleep finally found me, and in a dream I heard him tell me that he loved me, but I had to talk, because he cannot read my mind.  I woke, resolved to speak my mind.  He told me I was a lunatic, and I never saw him again.  It’s been a year, and I cannot find a spark to ignite the torch I’ve held since.  I stay quiet and in my mind, where the shadows keep me safe, but you seem weary by my very existence.  Like a skipping record, I am hear with you, wishing to kiss you, but hiding in plain sight as I do best.

At this juncture, unrequited love has become normal, while my mind relentlessly reminds me of him.  I’ve penned so many letters to try and fix my wrongs.  They’ve gone as unanswered as my heartbeat.  I start again, Dear…, and realized, I don’t even know the name to put anymore.


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