Keep Art Alive :: Art by Wlodzimierz Kuklinski

I am just for you,
as you are not for me,
so even if you stop,
you’re sitting here by yourself,
you can never try to answer anymore,
you can never start and see what you’re doing to me.”

Your words come around when the hour is late, at least where you are, later than a casual hello will permit. There are miles and so much water, and time between us, but not just that, no, there are reasons we are not together anymore, why we cannot be together at all. Yet the words come, leading and with intention, but without even the common courtesy of a hello (and they all said it was your side that was oh so polite). I suppose the way it goes is once upon a time I was your second choice, and now I am a late night long distance whore. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?

You can blindfold me from a distance, but that does not make me blind. You can pretend you are someone else, that I am someone else, but underneath it all it is just you and me in some post-apocalyptic version of you and me, and honestly, I am not yours to play with in this way. Yet I still do not delete your name, and the x’s shared are not to excise you from my life, not today, not yet. Perhaps I enjoy the attention, or is there some meaning in the pain I allow you to send my way? It is not all your fault if it comes off as consensual, I suppose. This is not the kind of pain that is wrapped up in desire though, no, it is the kind borne of using and pulling close only to throw away again.

This is cowardice, and loneliness, and cruelty. This is not friendship and no, this is not love. You know that I am not for you, and you always made it very clear that you are not for me.

Black (live) :: Pete Yor

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