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.