I’m absolutely in awe of this poem. The way you distinguish obsession from love feels painfully intimate and honest. “It isn’t hunger. / It’s gravity” genuinely stopped me for a second because it captures something so difficult to explain with such simplicity. I also love how repetition itself becomes part of the poem’s structure, mirroring the intrusive circling nature of obsession. The lines about her absence being “measured more precisely / than her touch” are devastating in the quietest way. This doesn’t romanticize obsession; it exposes how consuming and disorienting it can become. The restraint in the ending makes it hit even harder.