Where are you?

Return and return I beg.

It truly has been a while.

A while since I confessed my desperation.

When I promised that I’d plant a thousand kisses on that hand of yours,

I meant it.

With purity,

With darkness,

Just like your poems.

Truly, truly, truly, overwhelmingly,

I do not care who you are.

I do not care, I do not care, I care until my hands tremble and freeze with your neglect.

Man, woman,

You are my worship.

If death has taken you, I will write.

If death hasn’t, I will write.

I still think of your words on this dark screen, these letters a bright slitted eye of a ghost.

As always,

My toxic obsession.