i don't know why i already assume
malice of you
you have the kind of almond eyes
to make a mothafucka want to
go nuts
doing donuts in my sanity's
parking lot
i'm spinning circles
and i've only seen you once
got 3 text messages from
you and already i'm thrashing
myself against the walls of my scalp
might not even know your real name
how much of my longing is devoted
to your mystery?
what happens when i hear your voice?
see you eat
walk
move?
when the concept of your existence
meshes with reality and your divinity
is left up to you?
will you live up to it?
can you?
trust, i have a crazy imagination
and i've never been
known as a skeptic
could i lean sideways at night
and not await your call?
will it ever be enough?
watch me wilt within a week
see how hard i can love
without even knowing
beyond hopeless--no,
more like hopeful.

oozing of hope.

allowing a single hollow
interaction to hurl my
head back in the clouds
to the point where it might
hurt to keep writing about it
why i hardly put words to these
anymore
to what? for what?

adriel.
remember this feeling
of not wanting to eat
of waking mid-slumber and
checking for the white glow
of a text notification
the void
not wanting to do anything but
talk to (hear from?) her--
this person whom you've allowed
yourself to believe is the one.
to imagine, reason, convince
yourself of all the reasons she's
perfect this time
the time spent fantasizing how you'd hold each
other
laugh together
argue
make love
even break up
truly
it must be draining to
live through an entire relationship
over and over in your head
you don't even know her--
hardly remember what she looks like
you've allowed yourself to use her as a prompt--
then muse over a character you've developed solely
in your head