I love to visit
and spend time with those
that I love to love.
but as more enter the picture,
one can't help but begin to notice
what belongs,
and what doesn't.

lying under this blanket
i feel warmer than usual.
maybe there's some version of me out there
who, right now, is lying
in the embrace of a loved one.

some version of me who's doing better.
some version of me who's doing worse.
i feel somewhere inside me
envy towards that peaceful person.

but if that me can live joyfully,
so too can this me.

your words startled me
awakening my heart.
exciting my dreams of you.

you say it was a joke.
i understand, it's seems like
something you'd do.

i've known how i've felt
without understanding
how i feel.

i've been content with admiring you
up close but so far away.

why do i feel so anxious about it now ?

perhaps my excited response gave away
what i'm sure you've known.

i believe i am motivated
by a very simple and primitive desire.

my life has been lived deprived of affection,
this has taken it's toll.

one day i heard a phrase.
"touch starved"
i believe it fits perfectly.

someone who has had so few loving embraces that they cannot imagine how it feels, driven by that desire.
i believe that is the desire that drives me.

i hear stories of these people, spending significant amounts of time in someone's loving embrace.
i've heard they cry.

i don't believe i would be able to summon the tears,
but i would love to test that theory with you.

like a lint trap collecting lint
i feel that i amass love as i live my day to day.
but my lint trap is never cleaned
and i cannot share my love.
a torturous punishment for the simple crime
of never learning how.

i lie in bed and hug a pillow
wishing it were flesh and bone
even though i'm aware
were it to be a person, i'd be scared to touch them

like a dryer whose lint trap is never cleaned
i live in fear, afraid that this is the day that i break.

a novel idea
to return a borrowed item through the mail
along with a written letter of thanks,
which would express not only gratitude for the item
but gratitude for the relationship shared with the lender.

a novel idea
accompanied by the desire to refine one's penmanship,
so that heartfelt words aren't held back by a sloppy hand.

a novel idea
that cannot come to fruition
because of a stupid name
on a stupid envelope