(Note:  This is my 2nd love poem for you.  You have inspired things in me that nobody has done for years.  Congrats.)

I am here

in my bed

and you are there

in your bed

and this is Stupid.

Why

are we not

right now

Tangled

in each other’s arms?

I’m alone

drinking wine

writing you love poems

while you likely

sleep.

In your slumber

you have no Idea

of the things I fathom

I have to Be Cool

and when you look me in the face again

I have to pretend

that the planet still looks the same

even though

it doesn’t.

And waiting

in choices

for the la de dah

and the oh yeah

means

I am suspended

in interim

uncertain

about my fate

like a young schoolgirl.

I am too old for this

at this point

we should

have our act together

the dance of woman

is supposed to make sense

but here’s the truth

it never does

we just become better

with smoke and mirrors

and that

is stupid.