I kiss you,
you pat me
on the back.
Imagine that.
I simply shrug
longing for the hug
that never comes.
I try,
though I never know why,
so I still wait
knowing that it's too late
for a love
that you can't give.
I know I need more
than you have,
so instead I wait
for the time
when you can.
And yet,
I still wait.
In the waiting
I think I understand
that this is not good
for me.
It could never be
more than it is,
more than it was.
I make love to you
with words into poems,
and you're not here.
You're not there,
you just don't care
about me.
Ditto that
and my words do not fail.
All you want
is just not the same
as me.
Yet, I kiss you,
again, and again,
and once again more.
It remains a banal chore.
So this feigned love
becomes me,
encompasses me,
strangles me,
drives me crazy.
My addictive
compulsive behavior
is not me
and exactly who I am.
Somehow I understand
you are emotionally
unavailable for me.
Yet I cling
to your memory.
I want such a love
that you have
no concept of.
This my dear,
is what I am made of.
So I wait
until that time
when I can leave you
so far behind.
In the waiting
I still try
to kiss you.
You pat me on the back.
Imagine that.

10/31/2009

Author's Note: ..... I tried, you never knew.....

Posted on 01/18/2010
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