The Love You Bring

Is it self-torture to allow these thoughts to steep in my head?

I miss him.

The cruelest part of love is distance

especially when brought in close proximity:

it hurts to see him every day.

He is often at arm's length

but I can't hear his voice.

 

I want to scream out in anguish.

But instead, I lay my head on the table.

Sometimes, I lean my head on his shoulder. And the presence never seems to bother him-

      but it is never returned.

This poem is about: 
Me

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