Mania, Infatuated

There are demons

that look like sunlight

inside my chest.

They claw at the walls

of my stomach,

singeing my ribs

as they ricochet

in hyper-speed.

Then my demons are crying,

white light gone gray;

they cling to my lungs,

begging for release;

they crawl up my throat,

sending jolts of something new

through my chest.

This is how it feels to want you.

I had forgotten

the pain of need,

the realization that I found

a person I want to need

but without guarantee.

And I want to revert,

emotionally declare something

that will change things somehow.

And I want to collapse,

want to let myself fall into

one-thousand shards of glass,

but the closest I can get is

a few drops on my eyelashes

that could be shattered bits,

if you could see them that way.

And there are so many

things I want with you

but can’t say,

because I’m already thanking

this version of myself

for not bringing up

things that can’t be

taken back.