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{Melodramatic Love Poem #1}

it's the little things that kill:
9 hour bus rides
sitting next to perverts,
working a dead-end job
in an office so loud that
"i think, therefore i am" loses its meaning,
lying in bed - alone - every night.

they're just insignificant losses, really:
missing your touch,
not being able to say, "let's get together after work,"
sleeping 2 nights on a bus and only one in your bed.

it could be worse,
i suppose.
i'm just not sure how.
a border separates us,
my heart is divided by a gulf.

how long can a person yearn for
another before they are
drowned by their desire?