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.
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