Contentment

I wonder how long this contentment will live here. Is it temporary because my heart says he will come to me? What if he doesn't? What then? Will I continue to be content? I do not know. I only know that today, I am resolved to let his gifts live through me. Perhaps that is enough.

...And I wish

...And I wish to be perceived mad with love as I continue to hold on. But I am not mad, rather I am sad with it and sick from it as I dwell in the physical world and ignore the gifts given to me that continue to live here forever. Never to lay eyes on my beloved, a tragedy surely, though I can not deny the change wrought in me, the beauty added to me nor can I say I have never loved or known love. This war does not abate as I hold out for the pleasures of more, of now, of here. The promise of more to come on my Beloved's lips not spoken in intangibles and my base side grasps and cluthes at tomorrow like a hawk clinging to its master's forearm. It is the not knowing that wages this fierce war. To know I would never see my Beloved... I would treasure my gifts, mourn my loss and let this precious light live through me, casting accolades in my thought and deed. And I wonder in this moment where you are, what is keeping you from me. I do not want to be standing on the corner of the Cinema forty years from now wearing a red dress and a smile, wondering if this is the day my Beloved will come to me. It is perhaps selfish, but then, so is love in its purest form...

Warmth

The warmth starts with a shared look and spreads with the touch of his lips. His hand in mine, our strides matching as our hearts whisper in turn. Our shared moments reverberate in our heads as we walk along, content to be. With every added nuance, I want to show him the best me that lives in my heart, the one sitting next to him in this room we two share. My thoughts of him push me to be everything for him. His being reaches mythic proportions in my mind and achieves them in my heart and I remember I have yet to meet him.

Whencesoever

Damn these knees. I strain so hard for benevolence in my pleading... So many times I have wrenched you violently out and hurled you to the floor like an offensive rag doll. Can you not hear me screaming across five thousand miles? Is this not loud enough for you? This... this... this isn't enough, what we have here. I need more. I need it from you. I need it now. I KNOW my weaknesses. I SEE where this hurt comes from, but damn you for letting me face it alone. Don't give me your ethereal babbling, give me flesh, eyes, hands. You walk at your own pace as I constantly run to catch up. You don't see how out of breath I am, only that I am there. All your faith in the world means nothing without your presence. Yes, that's right. Without your presence, you are nonexistent. You are a persona. Trapped in a monitor. I am bitter. Do you hear? I am so very bitter. I look to myself and ask if I would do this to someone. You know my answer. The fear I experience in every minute feeds into my desire to keep you from ever feeling this way. If you knew... oh, if you only knew... You would be here now. You would fly swiftly and close the gap, bringing your presence into my world, smothering me, encompassing me with what I need from you. The longer you stay away, the more I move away from you. The harder my life becomes, the more it is your fault. Yes, I am a victim in this moment. And like a victim, I lash out at you until you are bleeding more then I am as I turn away from love and embrace fear. I am full on barking like a rabid dog now. Whencesoever you are in my thoughts this is the sound that shall greet you until you return.

Can you not see?

I do not do what you do. I sit, poised, ready to mystify, but after all I am thinking. Can you not see that I am not of that breed? I am not such a creature. I am a chameleon. And an extremely good one. I have you fooled. And him. Everyone is partaking in this great and wonderous farce. And after all, what am I really?

I am a thinker.

That has been my lot in life. I say it with contempt as my lip curls up and I feel, ironically, I feel from my heart, sadness and longing for something I can never have. I'll never have it, Moon. I'll gaze up at you in wonder and watch a connection unfold between the two of you that I will never be a part of and I shall keep my fingers crossed that my thinking, cloaked in feeling will continue to appeal to him as I do everything in my power to convince him I feel as he does. As you do.

I am crying so bitterly at the thought of missing this boat. I want passage on it so badly. But like the thinker in me, the fighter persists as I shove on my smile and thrust my hand up in fond farewell.

Alone

I am alone here. This place is as foreign as Mount Kilimanjaro. I have a beloved somewhere in the world. My beloved thinks of me, I am sure. In this moment, I am alone. I possess neither wisdom, nor commonsense nor sage advice nor courage. I am a student, learning life's cruel lessons which will never have the dignity to present themselves twice. I am not a writer, whose prose flow like wine, nor a poet with words that rhyme. I am a soul alone. I know sadness. He is a friend of mine. And joy stops in for the occasional visit. I hope to become enlightened one day, with life's precious gift of seeing... to stand in a brook and feel each flow of water different from the last. Perhaps, if I close my eyes, it will find me. I wish to be the hooded traveller under a papermoon, in a cardboard sky.