I wish those lines were written to me

I wish those lines were written to me

Then perhaps I’d stop running.

But perhaps I wouldn’t.

But I’d be less empty, not complete.

I wish those lines were written to me

Then maybe I wouldn’t feel so vain

As I do now.

A pond devoid of waves and movement.

I wish those lines were written to me

Then it might have been possible for me to be strong

And believe that roses are beautiful

And the mind is one.

Just a chance,

But a chance nonetheless,

Might there be of utter completeness

The sharp complete lines upon your face

The complete purity of your soul

I, complete.

But I do not dare to hope

Maimed from lying drunk in its false promises

I do not dare to ask

Yet I do.

I ask.

I wish those lines were written to me.