what comes from wanting? a clearer image of what you don't have. the realization of emptiness. attention called to the hole. that's what comes from my wanting.

each time the possibility is entertained, the possibility that the desire could manifest, the desire for what isn't there... each time it's followed by a crash. painfully sudden or painfully slow, there's a crash.

it's the friend's voice of truth who says, "it doesn't mean anything. it boosts his ego." it's the empty inbox time and time again. it's the stuttering dial tone of voicemail, a hang-up or a credit card company. it's the scratch down your back from last night's mediocore encounter you don't care to revisit but lingers as reminder of what it wasn't, who it wasn't.

knowing that the person you're thinking of isn't thinking of you, doesn't think of you. the one you wrote to who won't write back. the one you wrap yourself around in dream who doesn't dream of you.

it's being 12 hours and a million miles apart.

my hands tremble now. the energy i keep inside to not scream and wail and thrash unbridled, it's evidence is trembling fingers over keys. tiny shakes that belie the intensity within. if tears began they would drown me.

i'm still. his life is vibrating with accomplishment. something amazing has happened to him, for him. i know because i dreamt it. i know because of a comment intercepted through a stranger. and i don't know because he hasn't told me.

if you would run to me, i would always be there. i would celebrate with you. i would commiserate with you. i would die those little deaths beside you. i would satisfy you. i would encourage you to find your wholeness elsewhere in the needs i couldn't meet.

if i could run to you, i could be stronger. i could push myself to reach for goals. i could strain against falling flat with the knowledge that you would lift me. i could wake up and stay awake because having you in reality is better than in dream.

for now, i sleep. i tremble in an empty bed and wrap myself in sheets rather than you. i sleep to see you near me. i sleep to escape your distance from me. i sleep so i don't hear the silence of my house and the phone that doesn't ring.

others love me. others reach out to me. others bask in the attentions i give them. others come to me with problems, tears, joys, anxieties. but not you. how are your needs so different from their's?

i'd never hurt you this way. and i'd never tell you how i hurt.

so i'm still.

wanting.

waiting while i crash.