"A"

Again.

I sit lamenting the loss of sanity, a cost of wanting. He is not mine, and will never be; but I still hunger for his heart, cold as it is. I feel it beat; I see it lives. My own is silent.

This obsession: it is all around us and so obvious, yet he cannot sense it. He does not suspect nor does he care. I am numb. And he…

Will never know.