They'd argue it's insanity

I find myself up late another night
Eyes heavier than my heart
Or maybe it's the dark that's feeding me that illusion.
Because you're still the only thing on my mind, and I can't combat that with a text that suggests
the anchor in my chest can be removed if only you touched your hand to my breast
and told me I was more than good enough.
I'm up writing about you relentlessly
As if the waves undulating in my head can be calmed by anything you could say to me,
No, not at this point.
My feelings for you still lie dormant in some malnourished manifestation of hope
That I decided not long ago to let go
But it keeps coming back with every day that goes by when you're not here
To tell me that I'm not fucking crazy.
My mind and my mouth,
They're confused with daydreams.
I could shut my eyes and rid my fingers of this guilt
Because writing about you only makes the heavy sensation in both my eyes and my heart increase.
With a steady decrease in the belief that I can get over you.
Because god, I don't want to...
But he doesn't exist, and neither should my feelings for you.

This poem is about: 
Me

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