This whole ordeal is becoming
Dangerous.
I warned you
"I'm worried I might get attached.."

Now here you are
immortalized in my work.
"Yeah, getting attached would be bad.."
And it is.

Lust often leads to
Infatuation
so we really needn't
Worry

But I hunger for something
more
Something you can't provide
with your throbbing **** alone.

I often forget why it is
That I write.
It's not for potential fame
Nor to prove my "talent"

I believe I write
To release unwanted thought
and bid farewell to
Emotion.

It's wondrous.
How the ink of my pen
turns into that of an endless
River.

The words flow
onto the page.
My sorrow pouring out
With them.

As my magic river slows,
drowning and washing away the
Pain, I let in
Happiness and clarity.

each day that passes
gets a little
easier.

The pain is less
intense and your smile
A little fainter

As the sun sets
giving wake to
moonlit dreams

You will be
Present in mine
no more.

You're in every song I hear,
every movie I see,
and haunt my every thought!

I haven't gone a single day
without thinking of you
and it's driving me crazy!

I know I can't have you!
And all of this is hopeless!
But I can't seem to

Let You Go.

My Father wears a
Cologne of dirt and sweat,
cowboy hat and boots,
a moderately large belt buckle,
and a salt and pepper mustache.

When he sees me
his face lights up
and he embraces me
engulfing me in his
familiar scent.

"My baby" he murmurs
as his hands smooth my
hair. "Te Quiero Mucho"
he says as his lips make
contact with my forehead.

"I love you too much",
he translates. It feels as if
my heart is going to break
and my eyes well up with tears
"I Love You, Too" I choke.

This is met with another
embrace, kisses on my
cheeks, his stubble scratching
rather than tickling my skin,
and the touch of his forehead to mine.

Once a month for
16 years, this is what
has always happened. But
now the ritual is ended and my
Father's Cologne is only a memory.