it isn’t
that the feeling itself
is new.
i’ve felt it;
at least,
for you.

i pride myself
in my independence.
i have told myself
that i
have no need
for others;
i have been
into believing
that it is selfish
of me
to want
it isn’t
my place.
am as
the lowly slave
to my own Self,
and you-
you are a prince
of some
extinct tribe
of eloquent savages,
removed from
royal standards
and social niceties
and poetry.
who am i
to wish
for that?

how can i want
in the eyes of others,
you have
“nothing new”
to give me?
when you have
something i can
“get elsewhere,”
something i can
“find in another”?

i’ve always been asked that
and i’ve always
asked myself.
always asked,
never found answers,
never went away.

so i don’t ask now,
but merely breathe
and study this.
i believe that
the lack of hooks
to catch my lip upon
makes you
so much more

you see,
it’s been so
and detached
and painful
up to now
for a reason
that i believe
i have recently
come to know.

i’ve loved many,
dear sir…
but i’ve never