...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DaH4W1rY9us

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I don't want her.

.

I don't want her and yet I lay there

.

Denying her denial as she sidles between my sheets.

.

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I don't want to her to be there

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And yet I let her fingers wander along my ribs,

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Over the curvature in my stomach, across my chest 

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And around the hollow of my neck.

.

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I want to leave.

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I want to abandon my own bed and leave her there

.

And still I allow her lips,

.

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Her lover's attempt

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And her unwelcome accost,

.

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To plant upon the lines beneath my cheek

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And reach for something real within the confines of disresponsive deep.

.

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I feel her try to trace my scars -

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She wants to touch the truth behind an absent arm.

.

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I don't want her to know

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But still, I allow her to try,

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Hoping her excavation might prove stronger

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Than my disavowed apprehension for the spy.

.

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The love we make is false.

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It isn't there.

.

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But we allow ourselves the pretension,

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The familiarity of the motion,

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The mutual relief of half a love

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And the pseudo conceived deception 

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Of knotted fingers, an empty rush 

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And the entanglement of her hair.

.

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Bad sheets, empty bottles

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And better forgotten memories -

.

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They are the symphony of half-loves;

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They are the rot within the pear,

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They are the feigned embrace and suspension -

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The hot-breathed escape and resignation  

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To the twist and hooks of despair.

.

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We both know this,

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And neither of us want the other to be there.

.

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And yet we allow ourselves the supple disguise,

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While imagining what was once, the real thing, 

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Breaking unrest at sunrise

.

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And waiting for the other to disappear.

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