the back & forth.

there’s two of them, inside my head, but that’s great — before i only thought there was one. but i can see clearly — the only way hypomania will let me, of course — that there’s two.

the louder one is the worst. even when it whispers it’s as if it’s standing thisclose to the microphone; so it’s all i hear. and i know it lies, it’s wrong all the time & it’s always full of excuses (just like me). this is the one that comes alive most often, the one i’ve been sharing an apartment with for the last year & a half.

in the closet with skeletons.

shadows
don’t
stain;

they just
follow you around.

i still
haven’t quite decided
which
is worse.

inmatuation.

sideways glances & secret thoughts we shared
you spoke whispered words
as i watched the fire
& tried to keep my stomach still
from spilling into the flames
or spurting out
like mist into the night sky —
& somehow,
i was successful.

later,
a quick note scribbled on blue-lined-paper
left on your windshield with a kiss
call me sometime
it said
with a couple other dangerous things
you called that night
told me you were flattered but attached & you’d give me a call sometime

i shrugged you off; it was worth a shot & i forgot

until you called me
two weeks later.

watching your little car park on my street
my soul screamed
but not as loud as it did when we were all done
with the bitter realization that
i should have kept you
in my dreams,
where you were better.