Today was the day we took a break.
I was ill and writhed in pain all day,
alternating between making myself sick,
and getting sick all on my own.
The pain in my head sounded like a train
trying to slow down.
And sometimes I feel so frantically urgent about you,
I turn into a junkie on the nod in the middle of a good story,
the room melts away, becomes your body.
And only after I can pull the pieces of being with you
together in my mind,
I feel no compulsion to smile or nod,
remember names or faces,
or feel like less of a woman
in my offbeat anonymity.
I am just glad that I told you
about how everything I’ve written
since we’ve been together
has been, at least a fraction,
to you, you, you.