You have made me fall in love with you,

At my request,

And now my days and nights are spent starving, bleeding, weeping for you,

Hollow, emptied out with longing, flesh clinging to disintegrating bone,

While I resist giving in to the terms I think you offer and that I am mistaken about.

You have given me this silence, this blessed emptiness going right up to the roof,

This crowded silence,

Thick with the souls of the waiting,

Longing for my surrender to what they don’t yet know.

You play your music for me,

And I feel my way from note to note,

Striving to find the silence within each

Where you conceal yourself, waiting for me while you play.

Day by day, I wait,

Irresolute with longing,

Thinking there is something I must do to be worthy,

Bleeding from these open wounds that do not heal. – Amidha Porter

(I used to have a friend named Charlie Hopkins, who made it clear that no poem of his was ever finished.  I think he was probably right.)