oh what is this need
to share all the trivialities
of my life
with someone?

the words pile needlessly
at the back of my mind
unwilling to go in peace
yet unwilling to be spoken

(‘i went to get a massage today. the masseuse said i’m overworking my body. i don’t think so. i think i can work harder. i’m visiting my mentor tomorrow. i’m afraid of what she’ll ask. my skin gets itchy easily. i’m sick. i can’t stop coughing…do you think i’m gonna die?’)

texting first feels too much
like begging
every dead conversation
a slap in the face
the lingering awkwardness
a merciless insult

wordlessly i stare
at the screen filled with words
unable to come up with
something interesting
anything at all

‘i miss you’
i can’t say that

‘what are you doing?’
that’s too arbitrary

‘how are you?’
too formal

where is the hook, line, sinker
they say it comes with practice but
all i have left
is the wash, rinse, repeat

(‘i miss you. i don’t remember what you look like, or what you sound like, or how you make me feel. i don’t like it. i’m scared one day i’ll wake up and forget you ever existed. i’m scared one day i’ll wake up and realise i never existed.

i'm scared.

please stay.')

i only ever have the courage
to write it in my notebook
keep it close to my heart
never read it again
wish, half-heartedly
that i could forget
everything ever happened