I spend all my ink on you

baby blue

plastic cartridge

through the ballpoint

precious, savoured ink

and every last drop

spent on you

...

swirls and curls

dots and lines

fine curves

strings of sentences

each denoting

a script whose subject

takes up more space in head

than on paper

...

and even so,

my locked desk drawer―

one only your memory can enter―

contains notebooks full of

our history;

a short-lived phase,

but one that

I now hold in nearest

...

dearest to me, you were

but in your heart

I did not hold

a similar sentiment

this pain...

this restlessness...

unlike any other impatience

to have graced my bones

with a leap i'm ready to take;

bent at the knees,

arms outstretched before

this tempting cliff

will I take the plunge

into icy waters below?

and as my body is submerged―

my precious, frail,

human body of a girl―

will the weight of your words

catch my hopeless fall?

or will I be left alone at the bottom

contemplating the absence of

actions you should have taken?

and will I be there as I drown

regretting it all?

...

if you'd read the words I'd written

might you finally understand?

or will the heartbreaking truth

finally be revealed?

when footsteps march before me―

when we get our one last encounter―

will you be ready

for what I've always known

could have been?

for what I've filled pages upon pages

fantasizing endlessly about?

or will you appear

out of my own worst nightmare

holding another's hand?