You Look Like I Need a Drink

I don't know what this is. I sat down one night, late at night, and this just came out. I'm not even sure who this is about, but the person it is about will know it's about them as soon as they read it. I don't know if that means anything. I mean, how could I not know who this is about, yet they would know it's about them? It makes sense in my mind. Written down it looks ridiculous. Anyway, without further ado, here it is, the poem that means nothing and yet everything.

A blank page………
It stares at me………
It mocks me………
But what am I to do? I am just a man.
Am I not?
Of course I am.
Then, why?
Why am I?
Is it fate that makes me?
No.
Is it religion?
No.
Is it God, or a god?
Or life?
Or time?
No.
No.
No.
No.
Do I make me?
No.
Then what is it?
I don’t know.
I’m not sure.
I never will be.
Life marches on.
It marches on around me.
And I am alone.
Why am I alone?
I know not.
All I can say, is this is a matter of life.
It makes me be.
It is me.
It is my life.
It’s who I am.
So who is she?
I don’t know, nor will I.
Do I care?
Aye!
So much that it hurts.
Deep within me.
An abyss.
Labeled as her.
Written as she is written.
And yet, I am me.
And she is her.
So, what does this mean?
Anything.
Anything I want it to mean.
And yet,
nothing.
And yet,
everything.
And so I am.
So much that she is her.
And only will be
within me.
For she cannot live up to what she is within me.
She never will.
Never could.
So why do I?
I don’t know.
It makes no sense.
It matters not.
But it’s who I am.
It’s who’s with me.
It’s everything I am and everything she could never be.
And so is hope.
So then, is she.
But only within me.
Without, she is her.
The person she became.
An enemy.
It saddens me.
It empties me.
But, it is me.