it’s difficult for me to write
poetry for someone else and not
have other people assume that
I’m in love. not that it matters,
I guess, what “other people” think
or whether or not I’m really “in love”
but it’s not like I can ignore the world
in which I live 100% of the time.
you seem to have that covered, and I
don’t even know where to start.
have you ever wondered if you can live
as you do because other people live
as you despise? this is not a theoretical
or rhetorical question—I really want
to know. you frighten
me, confuse me,