I lie to myself.
Pretending I don’t care
whether anything happens
or not.
That it’s ok
if no reaction ensues.
But that is a lie,
and it is an outrageous one.
I feel that there are
inklings of moments
at the questionable juncture of
wayward emotions
where nothing matters more
than something coming through.
A yes.
A no.
Any word would do.
Like you,
I am desperate for an echo,
a result or a reverberation.
I want an outcome.
Something that supports
my sterile sense of dimension
and that allows me
to keep drifting on this feeling.
This feeling outside of life
that at times feels like
the only thing
keeping me afloat.
I know it is but a reflection
that bears no resemblance
to whatever I need.
But wanting and needing
are often unrelated
and it turns out
I need my wants
as much as I need my needs.
Some of these wants
are underpinned with reality.
Others are wanton
and highly delusive.
I’d settle for confirmation of reception.
Some kind of acknowledgement
of my thoughts.
Someone must unknowingly
be following a similar pathway
and even though we are
completely obscured from one another
because of our blinding mind fog,
we may be slipping off
the same rocky mountain flank
or sinking in
the same frothing marsh
at the exact same time.
I can almost be sure
someone else is there
as you nearly brush against my arm.
We are both here.
Maybe.
And if that is so,
I need you to express it.
I need to know
that I’m not imagining it.
Answer me.
Or tell me out loud
I’m fooling myself.
So I can construe another expanse
for me to err in.
Far away from this exhausting wait.
Let me know
that you understand.
If you understand.
I am waiting.