Cela

Do you want to know a secret?

There’s a sick twist in the pit

of my stomach when I think someone else

is thinking of you the way I do

and

it is a thieved coil I stole

from your

girlfriend.

Possessed by possessiveness,

I am eclipsed by the persuasion of your lips.

There’s a bastardized light in my eyes

when I mistake your presence for present-ness.

Who doesn’t know you like I do? But somehow

I think

I’m

different.

No one is different except who you say

and for years, you’ve said her.

I would love to know

why?

What is the word for when someone didn’t know

they had the power to break or make you

into who you always wanted to be by having

what you’d always wanted? It’s not heart

break the noble wreckage recognized by the broken

hearted. It’s something quieter

heartshake

when I look at you

burn for you a

quiet fire and

you can’t feel my heat.

And it’s insane that you will never know

the illness killing inside my icky sticky innards.

I love you.

Do you want.

to know.

a secret.