Why do I have to be
so stupid?
So love-drunk
and foolish?
All I want
is to hear
your guitar stings
whisper my name
and my fingers
feeling your freckles.
But all I can do
is look at your picture
and tell myself
that I’m an idiot.
It’s stupid
to know you miss me
and here
and the years between.
It’s insane
to know
that you still
keep my letters.
Who does that
and then claims
not to love,
not to miss,
not to pine
as you fondle my words
with your eyes?
I’m dumb
and you’re an idiot
and you read
my old words
and I write new ones
you never will.
I look at your new pictures
while you stare
at my old ones.
We are hopeless
and stupid
and pitiful
and miserable.
What are we doing?
What am I doing
not letting you go?
Why is it impossible?
How can I forget
your face
when it’s all I see
when I’m breathing?


4 thoughts on “Stupid

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