As we keep to ourselves.

Twisted trees.

In love with no release.

Paranoid friends.

Waiting for betrayal like it’s a promise.

Would-be lovers that never were.

Wanting to talk to you.

But I never get to.

Dreaming about you.

Never getting to touch you.

Sleeping lonely.

Like an incomplete poem.

Waking up tired, like you after work.

Regret.

I can’t escape, you’re keeping me up.

Walls and mountains keep me away from you. As we keep to ourselves.

Much too full

I hope that you’re happy, but I don’t care enough to ask.
This sweet indifference
Based on lack of longing
Lack of energy to spread across the gap between you and me
No urge to try and fix old wounds that no one remembers.

The insignificance of the time I spent angry at things you didn’t say.
How you didn’t support me when I needed you, but I supported you, sometimes.
Just never how you wanted me to.
Or when you wanted me to.

This is an ode to dead friendships
Long lost lovers
Lost opportunities

These are grudges too heavy for me to carry.
Because I am too full of myself.
Too full to care about losing you.
Too full to care about you.
Too full to care.