I remember you.
I know you are watching but you don't come forward. I am like the Marathon to you.
I feel like you have cheated me somehow, pretended you had the capacity to love me.
You see my capacity to love.
You want to revel in the poetry that flows from my fingertips. You want my fingertips across your skin.
You want me to give to you when you have nothing to give back.
You tell me you are being honest. I want to be honest to you too, I am hungry. I have been starving for beautiful words addressed to me, for a gentle touch, for a poet.
I'm now used to the fact that you all lie, with empty promises.
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