lovesick

Of fevered sunsets  
daydreaming 
that we’ve never seen the sunrise. 

Sick of this miserable moon 
longing boys 
and broken hearts 

Sick to the brim 
of getting out of sorts 
when you put your dirty hands around my neck 

And now I see love 
as Procne, Tereus and Philomela 
not as [upstanding example] 

Sick of my parents’ love 
sometimes we all feel such as 
incommensurate matches 
 
Sick that I cant love somebody’s daughter 
think about her mellow hips 
I would write 100 letters just for her                                     
Sick and ill demented insane 
of being glass and (fragile) around you 
brittle rays of sunlight 
 
Sick of your godlike appearance 
of how I am wrapped around your fingers 
I can only write one line about you 
(and that isnt ‘I love you’)   

Stuck at counting kisses 
never sick of them 
while you used to count them on the fingers of your hand 
 
Sick of “WHAT’S YOUR NAME, 
babygirl, 
GET INTO MY CAR!” 
 
Sick of miles 
and first messages 
and profile pictures 
 
Sick of repeating the same sentence everyday 
I write of intimacy and I state hostility 
am I lovelorn? 
 
Sick that I turned up loveless 
and sometimes I wish I had 3 hearts 
would you love them better? 
 
Sick that I was the first one 
and you treated me  
like the next one. 
 
Sick of myself 
(sick of being sick of myself) 
but never of you 
 
And now I bet that you’re sick too.