A Series of Thoughts: To the Love of My Life

I. longing

Understand me…
I am lonely.

Predict me…
I am unstable.

Define me…
I am nothing.

Is there any hope out there?
Any answers?
If so, I still wouldn’t understand.


Teach me…
I am ignorant.

Guide me…
I am lost.

Talk to me…
I am silent.

If you try to remove the darkness that wraps around me,
You will never be rewarded.

I am useless.
My idiocy will only
Tire you.


Love me…
I am strange.

Keep me…
I am gone.

Remember me…
You cannot.


I have never existed.

I am not even a memory.

There is only uncertain space in your mind.

You know that something used to be there,

But you know not what.


II. disappointment

I am here.

Time is my sacrifice.
What is yours?
You never pick up the phone.

I play both sides of our relationship in my mind.
You are only in my head.
Whenever I hate you,
You have no idea of it.

Your absence is more familiar to me than
Your presence.
It is all I know about you.
If you were to ever truly arrive in my life,
You would be an unwanted third wheel in this romance.

I love the idea of you.
As to who you really are…

I don’t ever want to find out.


III. disappointment

The color red is pronounced in our affairs.
You were sultry, and you made me feel such.
A pity now, our times have passed.

I realize now, I wish for a man of strength.
One so strong, that he will not desire me.
Rather, one who sees me as a person,
Inimitable, intelligent and swarthy.

I want to be strong too,
So I must be around strong men.
Not only one of brawn or smarts,
But one of Art as well.

The laymen call this


IV. death

The sexiest body is the one most transparent.
When I shook your hand, I felt the inner workings of your anatomy…








Doctor’s knowledge.

When you flexed your arm, I saw not strength.
But instead, muscle fibers gliding.

When your eyebrows rose in surprise, I saw not emotion,
But rather, a nerve’s reaction.

Sometimes, I still wish I was an actress,
Capable of summoning the spirit of another into my form.
Perhaps one more attractive than I,
Or perhaps wittier,
Or even more bland, sexy, and predictable.

Such is the heroine,
Of every man’s story.

But was I ever yours?
You are deceased,
So I will never know.


Neesa Suncheuri works as a mental health peer specialist at a housing agency in Queens, New York.  She is the founder of a Facebook discussion group for peer specialists and other recovery enthusiasts, entitled “What is Wellness?  A Mental Health Discussion Group.”  Much of her creative inspiration is rooted in her now-tamed schizophrenia.  She writes poetry and fiction, and maintains a blog called Unlearning Schizophrenia.  She is also a singer/songwriter, and an enthusiast for the German language and culture.  Follow her on Twitter at @neesasuncheuri.

2 thoughts on “A Series of Thoughts: To the Love of My Life”

  1. This resonates in some spooky way hard to define (suddenly thinking of the song, “Spooky” from way, way back – relevant-irrelevant? IDK – word association) – thinking too of more than one once might have been called love of my life, but some ways unknown-mysterious, now passed or lost in time and distance. Beautiful poem, Neesa.


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