Find Myself

I find myself wanting him
Wanting to write about wanting him
Wanting him to read my writing about wanting him

I find myself unable to put my pain
Into any form that isn’t self-destructive
Or self-pitying

I find myself thinking of his touch
Wishing he would hold me
More than twice a month and without falling asleep

I find myself wishing I could cry with him
Without worrying if I look sexy
Or sound desperate

I find myself wanting to not want him
To be the cool girlfriend who doesn’t
Need attention

I find myself wishing I didn’t think in rhymes
Knowing he “hates poetry”
Wishing I could take a shape he liked

I find myself losing myself
In another intellectualizing spiral
Staring at my poster child on the wall