I Can't Name It

How is it possible to feel

so much joy and to still be

dead

to the world? I am

depressed, but in the moments

we are together

I shed the anxiety,

that leaden straight-jacket holding

my fluid soul

in a singular shape.

Evaporating

from my bindings I finally feel

weightlessness,

desired weightlessness.

When you are gone,

when we must part,

when the clouds cover

our spectacle like theatre curtains, then

I condense and drip

reluctantly

back into my suit of anxieties.

Our time together always feels

surreal and dreamy

in hindsight. Like

a dream, it shapes me

subconsciously,

but dwells far

from my awareness.

Wrapped in my vessel

of insecurity,

I doubt.

I doubt.

I doubt

this really happened or

this will last.

I do not want to live

in the moment without

you.

The past is a dream

I cannot decipher.

When I look to the future

I can only focus on

the fissures

in my crystal ball.