The Stoics Confession

Sowed my mouth while keeping you at arms reach,

knew I’d gnaw my arm off whole.

The shadow of every thought of you

Caused me to pause my clock at solar noon

The sun, disapproving the manipulation of time and continuity

Bathes you at sunrise and sunset.

I’ve even attempted memory loss,

But I’d brood over the fact--

May’s embrace succeeded in permanence

Through the fibers of my knitted brown sweater.

Your curiosity

Paired with my piss-poor responses

Still Stubbornly bled a yearn I wasn’t deserving.

Feigning indifference over a state of existent plenitude.

In an ardent plight, my adoration for you— causing an involuntary judder—

Clings onto the threads my knitted brown sweater.

But that’s what I secretly hope for, every time.