I wonder

I wonder if you’re in pain,

just like I am in pain.

Do you seek distraction

or do you actually find

joy in playing the same

tune for hours on end?

Why am I both satisfied

and disturbed at the thought

of you missing me the way

that I miss you?

Maybe I don’t miss you.

How can I miss you when

all you gave me was

wine bottles filled

with water?

Either way, I was still

intoxicated.

I want to be

intoxicated by

what I thought

was love again.