to whom it concerns,

i'm so small and square and awkward
i have never once considered telling you what i think
or h0w i feel
in my mind there is no room for wondering
over your response
what is worse
i know you'll never read this
even though every post
is a post-it sized hope
for your distant attention.

remember the dream
with you at the top of the stairs
or the one where you dove
and washed me over with the wave
of your weight against the water?

please note, this is no poem
but prose with a twitching return
my insecurities.

i wonder what i would write
without wishing you for my reader
knowing i would never
dare to ask for your attention
let alone affection.

my imagination
is just not that elaborate.

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