I don’t

I don’t lack appreciation.  I don’t want you to think I’m cold to these advances.  I don’t want you to wrinkle your brow again.  I don’t want to tire you out.  I don’t want to become routine.  I don’t want you to lose your passion.  I don’t want to restrain myself.  I don’t know if I’m strong enough to pick you up.  I don’t mean not to try.  I don’t keep my phone on late at night for you.  I don’t wait for a call hoping it’s somebody else.  I don’t listen to the lyrics when you’re around.  I don’t see you doing well on your own.  I don’t want you to know I pity you.  I don’t want to panic in the light of your brilliance.  I don’t shrink from your challenges.  I don’t like the way your eyes remind me of a child.  I don’t think about you much anymore.  I don’t go a day without trying to shake off the parts of you that stick in me.  I don’t think you made an impact at all.  I don’t hear your words.  I don’t want another man to drink in your elegance.  I don’t remember you twirling your skirt while you laugh.  I don’t want you anywhere else.  I don’t like you.  I don’t need to grab your shoulders and shake you.  I don’t want to miss the curve of your hip.  I don’t throw myself at you.  I don’t see how you burn out your passion like that.  I don’t think it’s cute when you’re dumb.  I don’t wonder where you get your fix.  I don’t like your arms anywhere that isn’t pinned under mine.  I don’t think you’re always beautiful.  I don’t know if I love you.  I don’t wonder if you feel my heart crashing against my ribs when my chest is pressed against your back.  I don’t spend much time thinking how I covet you.  I don’t really think you exist.  I don’t think your family is related to you.  I don’t laugh about you all the time.  I don’t forget the hot red flush that creeps across your body.  I don’t mind cracking a smile now and then.  I don’t enjoy the way my arms and neck tense for a beat when I see an old picture.  I don’t have to guess why I kiss your knuckles when I hold your hand.  I don’t want to see you again.  I don’t know how to explain you.  I don’t want your stupid throaty sigh and narrow-eyed disapproval.  I don’t want your legs ever untangled from mine.  I don’t need the growl in my breath when you kiss my neck.  I don’t want anything else, ever.  I don’t measure the time when your hot tears burn my shoulder.  I don’t have the time for you now.  I don’t want your faces at the edges of my thoughts.  I don’t want a new tree of possibilities forcing its roots in every time I catch your eye.  I don’t like the way your product keeps my fingers from running through your hair.  I don’t share your obsessions.  I don’t miss you.  I don’t want you.  I don’t know you.  I don’t know myself without you.

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Death, The Life Story

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"Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living."- Jonathan Safran Foer. || student, loves travelling and perhaps baking a cake.||

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