a star without light.
gone.
all the time in the world
to indulge the wanderlust,
insomnia, days & ways.
all the time in the world
to sit outside a cafe
& eat a fruitfilled
masterpiece.
i hate it,
i hate being delivered to my failures
with the insistence, the happy face.
i hate staying up late because
there's nothing to do
& all the while i just want to sleep
i hate feeling tortured
stretched over
a bed-of-nails;
i'm not.
i'm fine.
i don't understand it;
i don't want to.
there's a longing,
a want
an ache
if it's not you
it's someone else.
i've got the sadness written all over my face
written over my limbs freezing
in the sudden burst of wind.
the regret scorched into my fingertips,
can't you tell?
can't you tell?
can't even hold my coffee cup
without clutching it to my chest.
((without wrapping both my hands around it))
can't even look you in the eye
without lacing my fingers
around a pen, a piece of paper.
they tell me i can do anything,
that i've got it all.
what the hell would they know?
post.script. & if we come full circle: lights are nothing but the means to see. i scratch at the place on my cheek where you never touched me.