DEPARTURE

 I'm holding my breath,

hoping, praying,

that you ask me to exhale.

I'm exhausted from waiting,

waiting for your reply,

waiting for your response,

waiting for your retraction.

You keep me at arm's length,

only using me for your convenience,

like the lime, you chase your tequila with,

your umbrella, always locked in a trunk,

until it rains, and you need to be shielded.

I feel like an extra,

nothing extraordinary,

but often available. 

Like a weed,

 unwelcomed and undesired,

forcing my way in,

yet you barely make room for me,

so I squeeze in.

Seeping into conformity,

gasping for air,

while you ration my light.

I am not a cigarette, 

a need for gratification that is soon stepped on when you are done using me.

I am waiting,

patiently, hopefully,

wanting to be wanted,

dreaming of being desired.

Drowning in a tolerable level of permanent unhappiness.

I am the embodiment of the ID,

stubborn and unreasonable,

yet free-spirited and eye-scorchingly bright-minded.

All you give is and me down love.

Dusty and decrepit.

I am navigating through the warmth of a crush,

yet all I feel is ice-cold desolation.

I am at a funeral for my thoughts,

the death of the hope I fostered,

for you and me.

I like you, 

a lot

but I am clingy and needy.

I need love and attention,

as I fall anxiously in love.

Falling into a love that always stands me up.

I spent all my emotional currency on you,

yet you could barely give me your two cents.

And rather than steep in anxiety,

waiting for you to call me back,

reply to my voice note,

or tell me you want me.

I will merely slither out,

get myself out of the way.

The bed is cold when you're not here,

but even in your presence, there is a blizzard.

You ice me out because you try not to care,

so I move to a new home in search of warmth.

Because a home where nonchalance lives,

is not conducive for the love I breed.