worry

Why do I still crave your kiss? Why do I so painfully relive your touch, your presence, your mind? I know I have smoothed out the bad, leaving myself with a phantasy of your existence colliding with mine. But why?

Is it because I worry? The fixation, repetition, obsession, rumination that plagues and blesses so much of my thought is enacted in thinking about you. I want to be over you, to be rid of you from my head - but the worrier in me keeps you here, closer than you were in the flesh, but a (mere) phantasy.