Doomed infatuation

 

Doomed infatuation

picks me up

like a piece of litter

on the breeze.

 

Lifts me up.

 

Then throws me

to another world entirely.

 

One where you and me

are not sitting

on opposite sides of a sea,

but on a sofa watching

over our destiny.

 

Doomed infatuation

sits looming in

the corner of the room.

 

Trying to startle me,

but I know already

my mind is in too deep.

 

I try to shut the windows

to stop me from hearing

the birds that tweet,

but their song smashes

the glass and I’m on my knees.

Picking up the shards

that used to be me.

 

Fingers bleeding

my love into the seasons.

 

Doomed infatuation

swirls around my brain,

like monsoon season,

and I am the rain.

 

An inflated thought bubble

popping out of existence

as soon as it forms,

crystalline thoughts

sift the shore of the sea

that I’m sure

no longer sees me,

and I drift

like the debris

of hope sailing away.