Lost in love,
I'm all alone and drowning.
As I breath in the warm, liquid form.
It's warmth soothes, as my lungs burn for air.

As I replace unrequited love
For air as my life force
My heart ache for what it's not getting.
Lack of love, lack of oxygen.

Not nourishment fills me.
So I live on my love within me which I can't share.
I feed on myself fulfilling my own need,
Aching and loving as one.

I have been kicked in the guts so many times.
Not always intentionally.
They probably don't even know.
But it happened none-the-less.

Some might say I should have learned by now.
But 'learned' suggests intellect.
I have the knowledge,
I can see what's coming, but I don't avoid it.

Each time I think I have been battered enough
To not have anything left to be able to go there again.
So now I know no matter how tired and battered I am
I have all this to look forward to again.

It might be someone new,
It might be someone I thought I meant something to,
Reminding me, in someway,
How they didn't really.

I can't numb my heart,
Definitely not long term.
I can't stop wanting, loving (or thinking I do)
I can't stop the intensity of my emotions.

I even want to feel, as much as I dread it.
I love the passion, being alive.
Maybe even the fear of what's to come.
Something like Barbra Streisand's 'Being Alive'.

If only I could feel that
And have someone feel it about me.
The emotions aren't the problem
Being in it alone is.

But that's the way it is,
Always.
Just fifty or so more years
Of this to look forward to.

Men don't love me, I know that now
I can make them want me,
But not truly desire me.  No matter what they say.
And they definitely don't love me.
They don't need me.

I don't really mean anything to any of them.
I play my role as a *** toy (not *** Goddess)
And it eases those needs.
That'll do.

All I have left are the voices of my lovers inside my head
Saying all those things the lovers never said.
Their comfort destroys my soul.
Their joy makes me cry.

Those voices bring me pain.
But I go back to them again and again,
To hear those beautiful, hurtful words.
'I love you', 'You are everything',
'It's okay, I've got you'.

To the ones who have a brain
And know how to use it.
But when a passion kicks in
They seem to lose it.

To those who are smarter than that.
Those of us who know better,
But don't do better.
Blinded by passion.

Those of us whose brains keep tapping us on the shoulder
As we wildly run after our hearts.
Knowing the heartache we're running towards
And powerless to stop it.

Here's to the ones who can converse about
The origins of the universe, time theory, and physics.
Who can't string two words together
When all they can think about is touching who they are talking to.

"Oh... the power and the passion"
Oh the power in the passion.
The power to sweep you away regardless.
The power to take over the body and mind.

"Where the heart leads, the mind will follow"
Perhaps begging the heart to rethink
(Oh foolish mind).
Where the heart leads, I will follow.
Oh foolish, intelligent, me.

After waiting so long to hear from you
You tell me you want to 'get together'.
I say yes, where, and when.
I always come running to you.

And when I'm with you, it's all I want.
In your arms nothing else matters.
As you touch my body I let go of wanting you to love me.
This moment is all there is.

As I feel your breath on my skin hot with desire,
I am happy.
As I feel you inside me and your body pressed against mine,
This moment is all I want.

Even when you accidentally lean on my hair, many times
I don't say anything.
You are with me, giving yourself to me.
I will grit my teeth and bear the pain with the ecstasy.

As you look at me you hold my gaze.
Not just a fleeting look like other lovers.
You look at me like I'm real, like I mean something.
This moment is right.

For a second, as you hold me after the ecstasy
I feel sad that you don't love me.
But I let that pass,
Right now is bliss and this is all I want.

You know what I expect?
I expect to stop wallowing in self-pity.
I expect to stop feeling miserable just because some guy
Doesn't feel about me the way I feel about him

I expect to get over you.
And I expect to stop beating myself up for it.
So what if I fall quickly,
And make myself get over it when I have to.
That Doesn't make me a bad person.
That's just who I am.

I know who I am.
I know what I have been through
And how much I stuck it out in the past.
We aren't a couple, I'm allowed to move on.

It hurts, I expect that's reasonable.
That's 'getting over' not 'being over'.
But sometimes it hurts less.
People still make me smile, and laugh.
I can be happy without you.

I expect I'll make the same mistake again.
I don't want to,
But I don't know how not to.
I expect my expectations will be my downfall,
And for now, my strength.