Sometimes you hold me so tight
You leave an impression
Of two circles on the skin of my back.
And when I walk away, I still feel you
Do I need to restrict you
Like fluid to a dialysis patient?
Will too much of you
Yes, I want to be with you
But I don’t want to die to get there.
It’s an artificial cold.
I don’t really despise you
It’s just where I am right now.
I’ll be back soon.
Like an 80’s sitcom
I want this resolved in 22 minutes.
Sure, I can talk to you
To work this out.
But, let’s be honest, if I had the ability to talk to you
I probably wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with…
[Poem #5. Image by andybrannan via Flickr and a Creative Commons License.]