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Staring up and counting the slipping bits of my mind

that now seem to dance and flirt with the ceiling cracks,

I breathe deeply the meaning of words

such fickle little things

especially when not spoken in truth

but through the dirty towel of self preservation.

The shutters of my eyes close low

blocking out the sharp twisting of light

as dreams tiptoe inward to the center of me

and cause me to tingle and shutter at the thought

of his flesh next to mine.

Hope laughs loudly at me

as I feel his forgotten hearbeat

and the fantasy unfulfilled of holding him

as he slept homeward bound.


what a quick slap and then my windows fly open

and I am faced with the reality

pooling in crimson around my head

that aching will not cease

until I have you.

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