Pick Your Poison

I want what I cannot
put into words:
the dousing of the flame
which reminds me you are not mine.
The silencing of my thoughts
which day in, day out
turn, turn, turn to you.
To dam the flow of
you that seeps into my dreams.
To snuff your constant presence
in all of me.
They say
there are two ways out.
I must pick my poison. 

River

Even when i can’t see you,
you are here
in the rivers of my mind, flowing
from one current to the next, so that
you are not always a straight line, but
a jumble that i sometimes lose sight of for a moment
behind the mountains and hills.
i feel you again and again and again and 
each time, just before you disappear, i know you 
will reappear in the bends of the river;
you always will.