I am trying to sleep
really, I am
but thoughts and words
you’ve sent me
block my r.e.m. waves
I check on your love
like emails
does it even exist?
There is no pulse
so I sleep again
but nothing escapes
the iambic pentameter in my head
or the haiku, 5, 7,5
syllables, counting
and all I could think about
are juxtapositions
of words
that describe a kind of love
like ours
that exists in the air
through wires and sighs
unrelenting lies
sleepless states
locked up secrets
padlocks on unknown bridges
glimpses of me confuse
contradict
but I’d rather stay in bed
than confess to you
I want the sheets comfort
to erase the dark thoughts
of how I almost died
in no one’s arms
how horseshoes truly matter
and poems
can combust in mid-air.

I get to nothing
no finish line awaits
I am just another writer
or maybe not.

But I found you in this maze
and even when I let you go
I did not.
I could not.
I lied.

I think you look better with her
she’s softer around the edges
young, fresh
while I am too jaded
too fucking romantic
too old
too pretty
too witty.

Soon you will agree.