I hold words of eternal affection

promising sweet nothings

and three words carelessly thrown into the wind

into weakening ink

masking the intensity of the bond

never made.

An armistice found in 

passivity.

I myself, stamped in approval,

collect dust under your unread books,

unfinished papers,

half-written novel,

half-finished life-

absent of the other, the recipient of my own contents.

Feelings of freedom rise within me

To leave your terrified embrace

and send feelings of reality

into your abode of half-nothings.

To make you feel more than dreams of the

half-known.