My heart became
a magnifying glass,
a weapon of light
and ongoing deformation.
I do not mean to burn with love
but I am desperate
and lacking in imagination.
All eyes and no soul
my heart looked into yours
and fell against its little bone door
with fear and trembling.
If I let you in
I will never be free of myself.
Eyes opened or closed
you will always see me.
Love became a thing,
an extraordinary and incomprehensible thing.
Even if I give doubly of myself
I will never be able to earn it
because that is not part of the exchange.
I always seem to be missing
something and that absence
creates a distance between myself
and the object of my interest.
How can 1 plus 1 be of more value
than 1 times 1?
Multiplication seems so powerful
until the numbers are forced
to confront the possibility of solitude.
Maybe we need each other to grow.
Maybe that’s why my value never rises.
When I think about it
I have been searching
that I can occupy.
I want to be a ghost
in your home.
To be with you,
to be seen and not seen,
to possess intermittently,
and above everything to dream.
I have been struggling with Depression fiercely lately even though I feel I have so much to rejoice and have been on some lovely adventures lately and have also received tremendous support and love.