If I Told You, You'd Go Mad

dark and dry
my darling
i'm sorry.
look inside
it's all you --
you, you, you.
letters and
poetry.
art. photos.
a whole room
every
area
filled with you
covering
each and all
blank surface
i'm so, so
embarassed.
i have gone
mad in here.
i put all
of them there.
i painted
each portrait
i wrote the
letters, i
sang all of
the poems.
and i know
that i have
become mad.

i lie in
my bed of
you. not real
of course- but
by building
this awful
gallery
of art that
honestly
collectors
would envy
i know i
have truly
trapped you
out of it.
if by some
horrid slip
you found this
behind the
pillow or
bookshelf
i fear you
would be found
worse than i
was, or am.