the toleration of torment

I suffer in this silence of mine and wonder, stupidly, if you can hear me. If the sound of my heart stilling will be alarming or welcome. I often dream of you saving me.


There exists a dull ache in my body that reminds me of yours. When I think about filling it with someone else’s, I feel faintly sick but never more so than when I think of you. It is a pressure that intensifies when I remember its permanency. I wonder if I will ever have to miss anyone the way I miss you. I hope I do not hate them as much. 


My mind is dizzy with memory and emotion I assumed would fade by now. Nothing has ever been so obvious to me before. I think I might find somebody else and they will be kind. They will never do anything to upset me. They will let my tongue argue against theirs because of love. I worry sometimes that I will be bored of this and I will wonder if being hurt by you would have made me happier. I can not see straight.


I don't know if I have written a poem or something else bordering on conversation. I want to talk with you and maybe that is my problem this whole time. No matter what, I do not choose to let you go. Time will have to peel apart the skin from my fingers from holding you this tight. It is stupid to think that in my suffering, I hope you will not allow it to. 



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