To Tell You.

i was doing this to tell you i no longer worry: my stomach empty, pulse steady, a body cleared from all past suggestion.

my fingernails still grow too quickly--(i was doing this to tell you i chew them in secret). i sleep late when possible, and sing along, and speed; i indulge in dreams, but no one ever knows--

maybe you, but i deny those principles now. something i never told you: those times we got along turned my stomach sour with thoughts of you and i as friends. i am sorry.

but, i was writing this to tell you everything is okay and you should stop straining my mind with memories.

i carry no failure in loss, no sense of what should have been; you stand as you always will and i have no choice but to leave you there.