And to think, this whole time I thought we were on the same page. Turns out, we weren't even reading the same book.

Have you ever had a dynamic with someone that you just can't explain? Something that is compelling yet repellent, unhealthy but sustaining? Where you can't figure out if you maintain the relationship out of obligation or anticipation?

All I know is that what compels me to still say yes to your ambiguous invitations is something inherent and treasonous. From now on, the only love affair I'll have is with the word "no".

No. No. No. No. No.

Ours is a history of dashed hopes, of mediocre tries and safe resolutions. It's a past of cowardice and a rationality only we understand. It's a comfort that slips away warmly and cloudily, like an etherized patient across a cold steel table. It's infinitely maddening.

And yet you stand across the bar from me, with your easy laughter and stolen time, earnest and brimming with potential that only I can see.

This is my life in the revolving door.

The cavalier way in which you stare at me blankly, not wiping away my tears makes my stomach hurt.

The words that tumble out of my mouth have always been carefully chosen just for you, just for each moment, but you remain unaware of this painstaking, thoughtful discretion. I watch sadly as they fall from my mouth and collect on the dirty floor in a crumpled heap, never making their way into your heart.

This time though I've gathered those discarded words and have taken them with me.

Onto the next person. Who will appreciate them.

I'm through with wasting all this poetry in my heart.