This is an ode to King C
and I\'ve been stumbling over writing it
for weeks.
See whenever I put pen to paper, it is
like my heart starts pacing and she keeps
walking to and from the door almost like
she\'s expecting you to knock.
I think she knows and will never forget
how she runs to that door when she knows you are there,
I suppose she has evolved into bad habits now and she just
does not rest.
I tell her all the time that things are-
different
and all she says is that she\'s older now and that
she is longing, pining for you to hold her like a baby.
I always find her waiting for you by the door and it is like she feels
you should have a key and
she laughs because she is pretty sure you already have a key-
she has this belief, an obsession
that love is eternal.
I have been sitting with her
every night
for the last few months
and she is so hot
even when you are not there
and like every time she says;
it does not matter how many times you tell me to \"chill\"
she did it the first time you said
and nowadays it is mid-summer and she is wondering why my skin is blue
and I am dithering with hyperthermia.
And she is so frail
she recalls being told it is not what you put in,
it is what you leave out
but every time you leave out
she says she feels smaller.
She does not know what to do anymore
because it is a world where love is not enough and she gets
demoted.
I ask her what to write and she tells me to tell you,
\"I love you\".
But I can not when you
do not want to hear it.