Opposing Lines

I can’t stand to sit… Waiting to be included In your anecdotes, The missing piece, Yet, I love to hate… My absent reverie, Lost somewhere Between oceans and mountains. Feeling like I’m right of left… A discombobulated mess, Issuing faint poetry For the sake of communion. My heart is back to front… Of the distance, Smashing head-long Into being there. I try to forget remembering… What it’s like Being among you, And want to cry. This wet thirstiness… Is drowning me, Aching for the creativity, Waiting, sitting, standing, While I become a squared circle.