Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 6, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

3-06-03 thursday 10pm brick NJ

it's the pinnacle,
that time again,
that space when
we forget what we
haven't been
and just let it happen;

i feel it like a song
moving through my veins,
pulsating with the feelings,
vibrating with emotions
nothing else can tame;

feel it even beofre it's happened,
like a dream becoming remembered
as i slowly open my eyes -
fuzzy, but truer still than reality;

it's the last time,
once more to say goodbye,
once more to love all
that we've been together and
everything that apart was neglected;

it's the pinnacle,
that time just once more,
that place where
toouch becomes love,
but love still is lacking
something we can covet,
but cannot hold;

you or me or us,
doesnt' matter and hasn't
for the longest time,
when or how or if
never offered a good time
or a reason to fall
for that tired old concept
of prefabricated happiness
that love baits and switches;

it could be just once more,
and i'd surely want it,
it wil come, so will we,
it's the pinnacle,
that gap where these
two worlds collide in a
brief and beautiful eclipse,
feel the flesh, taste the distance
in every long and lingering kiss,
swallow the reality that is us,
tomorrow refusing every request,
the songs pretending everything
that we just can't;

friend or foe -
sometimes they're not different,
take me as we do,
make me forget what i was
before i was this,
give me what you can,
even if it's just a primitive pleasure,
i'll try to give you just as much,
touch me when there's no one
else we can stand to,
love me if you can,
but even if you can't,
it's not's over because of that.
love me if you can find the strength,
but even if you can't,
it isn't that;
it's just that once more
is all we have left,
if's just that we've come so far,
changed so much,

it's the pinnacle,
that space where
then beginning and the end
suddenly converge in a
sepectacular explosion
of passion and tenderness.
i won't ever forget just how
good it felt to lay next to you.
to feel you under and inside,
that perfect connect,
one last time because we can,
because it's been too long and
the end should alwyas be something
worth the effort,
because as great as the start was,
the end should supersede,
one last time to reach for the pinnacle,
the fleeting moment that eclipses my heart
when i know just why i still love and
don't know if i ever could not.
that merging that beckons like
a drug to an addict,
needing it in your being and
knowing you shouldn't,
but i'm willing again,
just once more to pretend
that it's something more,
or that it still could be,
even if i know that it can't;
sometimes lies are
so muh better than truths,
sometimes i just don't care
if i'm wrong, i'd rather be wrong
holding you. i'd rather be wrong
laying in your arms,
i don't know for sure what love is,
but i've always imagined
it must be similiar to this,
i don't know what love is to you,
but i've always hoped it's
not too much different from
this that we have become.