bad love poem

I don't want to stalk you, but I do
I don't want to know who you have added as friends
or the wonderful parties you have been to
But I hungrily walk down your timeline
and sift through your albums
for that one recent picture of you
which might show how you are doing
without me, without my voice, my presence
I don't want to speculate
if the pretty girl you have just added
Could be the reason you choose to elevate
your relationship status
I don't want to know the music you listen to
Just in case I loop it on my Ipod
And I certainly don't want to read the jokes you share
As I will find them funny at first,
but tears will follow soon after
And yet its not right to unfriend you
Because that's what you are after all
A friend. nothing more
perhaps just an acquaintance now
Even if all my actions
reflect post breakup blues
I don't want to love you
Yet, all evidence suggests I do

free will

The corner of my eye seems to love every move you make. It follows you on its accord, even while I nudge it back to this really complicated excel sheet I need to decipher in the next two hours. Yet it has a mind of its own, the brain messages not quite reaching them. My eyes flit across to your side of the room, watch you and then hijack the messages from my brain to the heart, substituting it with those of their own doing, leading the heart to sound like a crescendo of drums rocking out at a concert. The fingers are the next to be attacked, they mistype and suddenly the alphabets in your name seem to be the only ones that they can find on the keyboard, of course strung in the right order, god forbid, they spell your name incorrectly. Limb by limb its utter anarchy, all the cells in my body can really do is attune themselves to the tiniest movement you make. Around you free will is a bittersweet myth.