loneliness isn’t love, is it?

she is there is the absences, she's the one pulling the cords tight across my wrists and ankles and smothering me. 

yet every time i pull free and try to push her away my arms pass through her like fog. she holds back her laughter but it shines around her dimpled smile. 

she's enjoying this. 

she's enjoying watching me gasp and writhe for air, for love, for relief from the relentless sorrow that laces my bloodstream. 

she's enjoying my pain.

and now i'm enjoying it, too.

but how can i write letters and send flowers to being who isn't there? how can i romance her? how can i plan a life with her when she. isn't. even. here.