at that point when i'm mutilating daisies

I miss you when you're gone
I miss you all the time
I wish you were here, though i cannot imagine
past the fulfilment of that one wish
I drop references of you into disconnected conversations
the way one drops names of famous people one knows,
nonchalantly on purpose, like secrets that beg to be told
I think of you every second second
in spurts and shocks and spite
(in spite)
of all better judgement
I hold long discussions with you in my head
where I say all the things I wish I could think of
when you were around, when people heard me
I wait with busy signals and pointed status messages
all for you, only for you
and I forgive you when you never notice
I write you letters pages long in my imagination
and then tear them up because
they all end up making uncomfortable admissions
that I am not sure i believe...or want to

I've been here before
will I survive another one?

retreating into old habitats

I can no longer find the words
with which to cover my confusion
I do not know if I can stand
how will I bear to stand uncovered
unclothed here without the benefit
of my inconsequential chatter

I worry that not speaking my mind will mean
that it is more misunderstood than ever
But in these silences I find calm
Is that not something to be happy for?

for lack of better subject lines

you hurt me, you do
even if you don't mean to
or want to
and i wonder at how many tears i will cry
before the coincidences overwhelm

for i'm tired of being cautious
and i don't know how
to read what you give me
you expect so much
more than i can give you
perhaps it's time to
just let it go