Confession

I love you because I can no longer have you.
Cannot keep, possess or own you in any form,
Nor want, need or desire you. It is simply no longer possible.
Not lonely enough to ache amply to shout out a few lines of mercy.
Finding my way up those stairs everyday to a careless heap of seeping debris in your eyes.
You gather my fragments in your hands and let some remnants ooze away.
I have always been unreal - attached in absence and the possessive refusal to share; detatched in the ache of your limbs as you tried holding my fingers as I slept.
I am still too young for the matters of the heart.
The real matters.
The more adult ones for instance,
Evade me constantly, with the disturbing regularity of a day break - or of tides.
How easily most escape the real world, fancy worded loop holes to little ghettos of comfort and declare it their rightful land of anger and pain to paint little grey flags.
So. I tell you I desire none of that.
Don't give me the diseases of the heart, or your banal incapacities.