Do you ever think of me? In ways that are pure? Not just for the laborious emotional clarity I send directly at your heart. The perfect light of desire I spin out of the fabric of my future nirvana. With hands that spin in harmony with the actions you hang across our fleeting life. That harmony feels so effortless. Like I’ve known your songs before there was thought. And before I can stop myself, before I’m aware of my giving, the light is woven. And everything I am is yours. Is it right to give myself to you if you don’t want me? All I want to know is if you feel me. All I want to know is if anything I’ve ever felt for you was ever understood. If the pummeling magnitude of feeling falling out of my chest was ever noticed. Is noticed. Do I hang in the air above every conversation you have? Do I hold your stare in dreams after days being lulled to sleep by the white noise of new lovers’ emotional longing? Do you lack giving others’ what you still so recklessly give me? Do you not choose to give it to me? Do you give because it’s natural? Do you give because it’s impossible not to? Your name etched itself into the bone of my ribs. Like carving into rock. Now all I can to do is wait for the rain to grind it away. And blame myself for having ribs. My light still points directly at you. With hands spinning infinitely in harmony with anything that echoes your shade. But, I’ve trained my eyes to look away. And now that they’re away, I wonder if yours ever actually looked at me. Or just toward me.