Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 9, 2003 Dark Poetic Prose

3-09-03 sunday 10:30pm brick NJ

it was good. great while it lasted. the moment still lives in my head and my heart. like a rerun i can't turn off. and i wonder when we'll find that place again. when you'll feel inclined to come back. if we should. if we would. and if so, why then.

a friend is a friend. someone you know and are glad to. but a lover is altogether different from. a lover is someone who goes below your flesh and when they go inside you it fills a space in you that otherwise remains empty. and i still don't know what we are. and i still don't know what you want us to be.

even just asking these questions to myself make me question why i am. makes me think that as much as i like to believe i've surmounted the obstacle that i've really only made a path around it. that it's still there in the background casting its shadow upon. though i'd like to believe i'm capable. that this progression is more than suitable i sometimes fall back to those dark places. it isnt you. it's just me. much as i'd like to think it's you that can make me happy. i know full well, the burden falls squarely on me.

it was and still is everything i'd remembered it to be. perhaps a little awkward to come back to that old place again, but well worth it. i just hope. i just hope that you care enough not to let it go quite so long again. i just hope that it means enough that you won't let the distance steal so much from of our lives as it did then.

i once was much better than i was then. i'm sure you remember when. i need time. i need to find that connection all over again. it was always there, but it needs to gain strength again. we once were much better than this. conversations testify to who we are. what we mean to each other. it isn't the sex. it isn't just the pleasure. just the feeling of your fingers on mine. the warmth of your breath on my skin. the closeness of your body to mine. even if we just laid there it'd still be better than.

it was a little strange. a little hard to find where to go when so much time had left us on the outskirts of the world we'd kept. it was strange, but wonderful. just to put your fingertips against my own. the warmth. the taste of your kiss as it sunk deep into my body. long before the penetration, you always penetrated my very being. and long after you slipped out again, i still feel the phantom of your love inside me. filling the void that no one else can. filling me with a sense of wholeness not possible otherwise. you don't feel the need to make much time. you don't think that i could ever forget. and you'd be right, but i could give up. i sometimes do even. i could never not love, but i sometimes don't care that i have.

i'm not making any propositions. i'm not asking for any commitments. i just want you. just as i always have. so pathetic - i want you more asn you consistently want me less. i don't want you tomorrow. don't want you next week. but i want you to want me. soon again. a night of your time every once in a while to make love the best we can. if you can't do that, then just let me know and i'll give up on it.