I tout my anxiety;
a broken record of the honest variety.
Similar to wearing your heart on your sleeve,
but no one can see it coming.

I've left too soon again.
Your understated fury fiercely vindicating me,
even while you deny it.
Your eyes always say,
"I'm the victim;"
I'm no good at second chances.

With only the worst of intentions,
I've kept this little piece of Me
Hidden away:
scribbles and jots.

Written in ink
only your eyes can see,
I write these words.
I draw this map.
I wait for someone to find me.

It's just a matter of Will,
I know.
Yours was never the strongest;
your addictions...

But maybe some quiet piece of you will realize:
I'm missing
and
you miss me.

01/25/2016

Author's Note: It was so wonderful to work with Nanette again. I cannot thank her enough!

Posted on 01/26/2016
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