Good Morning

I'm writing this because I have to.
Because if I don't, the words will bubble and froth inside of me.
I'm writing this because I cannot tell you.
I'm writing this because I cannot ascend to your door.
And cannot descend to your bed.
I cannot outline your body with my own.
Enjoin and Entangle in the warm hours of the night.
Where only the moon has any say, and all her says are whispers on cat's feet.

I'm writing this because I have to.
Because the stale shades of the lamplight smother me at dusk.
Because the perverse sound of the television is hideous and droning.
Because the stiff drinks tighten my veins like snapped leather.
Because the very thought of you makes my blood run electric,
Only to reduce itself to viscous slime.

I'm writing this because I have to.
Writing while you drift away from me.
A paper boat in a sea of storms.
A child lost in a parking lot.
A blinking star in infinity.
How meager words are.

But I'm writing this because I have to.
Because in writing to you, I write to me.
So that I may come to terms with my shortcomings.
So that I may see what problems I caused.
Which equations were never solved.
Which failures got involved.
So that I may begin to accept a life without you.

And I'm writing this because I have to.
As the world sheds its skin.
As we prepare for lifetimes of heartache and disaster.
As we shelter ourselves from the omnipotent grief.
As we stand on the precipice, leering towards the future of unanswered questions.
Two tiny infants, smiling because they no not how.

I'm writing because I have to.
Because these words would only make you run.
My presence only make your eyes quiver.
My touch make your skin weep.
My offense trigger your defense.
And my voice would only make you run closer to someone else.

So I write.
I write because I have to.
Because the world is not enough.
Because you are the outlet to my sorrow, my joy, and my anger.
Because you are the window.
Because when I look at you, I see me.
And when I write to you, I write to me.

ily.