Seems like—whenever we talk,
meet, or plan to: I cry.
Your feelings get hurt.
I lash out.
You chastise.
We Both Disappoint.
We waver, fluctuate:
codeep to acquaintance,
romantic to found-fam,
aromates to abusive,
queer platonic to
Just Good Friends.
It’s been four years—
nearly five:
I’m not going anywhere.
Are we Closer Than Ever?
Are we really any closer
to loving in health?
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