I wish I were the one to write you, with ink, rather than with my inconstant thoughts. I wish I wrote you like I write myself, like I write the world. As if I exist in the very place with my thoughts, not apart, not a single step away. I don't know. Perhaps I was consumed by the fear of succumbing to your presence that I didn't want, yet desperately needed.
I wanted your disappearance, so I wrote you in third person. Like you don't exist, here, with me, with my thoughts, with my being, with too much a burden to bear; the burden of the want to escape, with coward feet to move me from your ground. Which is mine, and yours (sometimes, when you're here). You, are in me, somehow, and you continue to possess everything I own. With a look of "You own me". How elusive!
I was writing and I didn't mean to invoke you like you exist, in second person, I wanted you my third choice; third person. And if there were ever a last person, it'd be you. You, who forever keep my company to possess my entity. To possess me. And abolish my existence.
To leave, with a question. Which one of us takes control?
2:51 AM.
I wanted your disappearance, so I wrote you in third person. Like you don't exist, here, with me, with my thoughts, with my being, with too much a burden to bear; the burden of the want to escape, with coward feet to move me from your ground. Which is mine, and yours (sometimes, when you're here). You, are in me, somehow, and you continue to possess everything I own. With a look of "You own me". How elusive!
I was writing and I didn't mean to invoke you like you exist, in second person, I wanted you my third choice; third person. And if there were ever a last person, it'd be you. You, who forever keep my company to possess my entity. To possess me. And abolish my existence.
To leave, with a question. Which one of us takes control?
2:51 AM.
