You have me wishing that I
wrote many of the songs
I listen to, the
heaving piano numbers
or the Friday afternoon anthems.
These teach me the difference,
frustrated longing and depression,
the difference in
how much I love myself.
I could see you countless times
so I could leave you each
and inhale the contented longing
living with you
without you
brings.
We could look at the sky
and sit politely in darkness
where there are no stars
besides you they say.
I say I'm lost.
You say nothing,
and that's more than both of us.
