The things that we can't say.

It creeps up on me, like a ghost through the night.
Not the way a lover should.
Stealing my sleep in the worst ways.
My heart lies heavy in my chest,
With all the things that I can't say.
Swallowing me in the shadows.
I cannot bring myself even to reach out,
as I long to, just to feel his skin.
I fear in his distance.
A lack of desire.
I wait.
Hoping he will reach for me
even involuntarily.
Wanting his subconscious to seek out my presence.
It won't happen. It never does.

He doesn't need me, doesn't want me. At least
Not with the intensity to which I am accustomed.

I imagine safety to be something so simple.
occurring when somehow I find this perfect balance.
Where I can give myself up.
I swirl myself up in my invisible swaths of defence
Treating vulnerability as though it were a fantasy.
That in me;does not exist.
The walls I build take me further from myself.
So far that I lose my way.
Caught up in the caricature - this girl
Who feels no hurt.
Only laughs at herself.
Doesn't need.
Not a body or a thing.

I lie, awake.
Measuring the distance.
Wondering if I should jump in.
Or jump out, before I get my self crushed like a bug beneath a shoe.
Second guessing whether it really is my magical intuition.
Or just fear.
That keeps me running.
That has me seeking things which may simply not exist.
Putting thoughts into other minds.

All I know is that what I need,
Is not yet here.
Not within my grasp.

But it may in fact be me,
Who holds it out of reach.