Love is a game we play to hurt ourselves;
the back seat of your Jeep
is full of emotions as you drive
to an unfamiliar landscape
with windows foggy from a sex scene.
I’m weaker than my knocking knees suggest;
I’m wasting mental space.
I’m washing our sheets
to remove the fantasies we’d pretend
would overlap with reality.
But you’re everywhere I smell.
My spirit is frailer than you imagined.
There’s no way I can say goodbye,
and I don’t have the strength to do so.
I’m not weak enough to say I love you.
And I’m not wise enough to say I hate you.
(© 2022 AC)