i am mad.
i am mad i have wasted so much time to be told
that he is not in love with me. that he loves me
he would reach me if i was in need or in danger
he would loan me money, give me pets, house me
buy me caged light, take me and parade me around
those he is trying to impress. but he is not in love
with me. and i want to wring his neck and then i think - i knew all along he did not,
he cannot because he doesn't know me. he thinks he
knows because i have shown slivers of me. i listen
to his stories, complaints, his angst, and anger, his
madness, and pacing and i calm him. he has seen me
work and mistaken it for loving him with a passion
he cannot return. he knows me not. he doesn't know
my passions, my thoughts, my moods, my hate, my
sheer will of escape. how i sleep in my office. write
poems in midnight to a man i never met. and to a man
who i divorced and to a man who I shut out. how i
forgive and how i hate. he does not know my hate
or love for the man he looks like -
and how it destroys my soul. he thinks: me caring
loving, unending in patience, a pleasant lover, an understudy in hope
he cannot be in love with me. he cannot even love me because he has
never met me -
don't laugh S - i hear you are in the same boat.
