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
broken
into believing
that it is selfish
of me
to want
anybody.
it isn’t
my place.
i
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
when,
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
desirable.

you see,
it’s been so
confusing
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
wanted
one.

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