ode to the absent

I haven't met you
but I'm glad
that you're not here

I have to fall out of love
with being too alone

besides,
waiting gives me reason
not to want
to self-destruct.

and when you arrive,
my dreams will cease existing
only in blessed starlight,
painted upon the heavens
of pure abandon-
eagerly listless,
stagnantly drawn

languidly
I succumb to sleep's embrace
conscious that waking hours
are nothing more than destined steps
leading to the moment
when I'd be ready:
when, finally...
you will find me.

know for certain
that the future will never bring me fear
for it is the masterpiece
that cradles you.

you need not understand now
and I need not make it clear-

for now:

I'm grateful not to know you,
I'm glad that you're not here.