On Being Denied

Crumpled, next to you in bed

        like a ball of useless

  loose-leaf,

I am never enough.

        Your lips part with

                 a burst of hefty sleep,

 while I stare at

 the murkiness of your wall

                    beside the bed, like the sides of a crib

   It is my only friend

  It helps me from being lost

                     in the ebony, empty, chasm

                 between

         the wall and the bed.

                                               

the lonely place of isolation

     that traps my emotions into shadows

  I hate who I am-     Still

Always, I always will.

 

Your breathing is steady

     ruthless on the back of my neck

You dream, and I am wishful as

       unwilling exhaustion rocks me to rest

I hate who I am,

     Always.

I always will.