Sunday, January 11th
Who am I when Iâm not with you?
Everything Iâd like to beâŚ
Perhaps everything I could be.
Yet I love myself in your presence.
Or is it you I love?
And itâs her I hate â
Her, that I am familiar with.
Hatred for her compulsion to love,
Yet the defiant tenderness,
The self-imposed absence.












