Even as a boy.
I always thought  I knew
what love  looked like.
She was soft curvy and blonde
with beautiful blue eyes.

I looked for her for years
and she finally showed up.
When she showed up
she was brunette wore glasses
that hid her brown eyes .
she hated my music
hated my friends
and in the end
she hated me.

It was ten years
before  love returned again.
This time she had a
short blonde pixie cut.
Green eyes and a perma smile.
She taught me that when a
woman is smiling it does not
reflect what she is thinking.
She played music all the time
that someone  else bought her.
She did buy me
my favorite ice cream though.
But she would eat it all
in midnight food binges.
as her music played.

I am now waiting for love
to come again.
It's been five years
but I know love
will show up.
I am sure of it.
when love left me I asked it to
leave my door open.
I kissed love softly goodbye.
And there were no tears.

I whispered softly to love.
thanks for coming to visit me.
I love it when you are around.
Don't be a stranger Love.
come back and see me soon.

One pulls me down in a sea of tenderness
safe gentle lapping waves of love and comfort
so soothing like a warm summer pond in the south
He is my anchor

The other loves me like a wild forbidden passionate rush
an all consuming type of love, making the world disappear
clinging to a life raft in a turbulent sea
He is my storm

Enticing waters with the luminous waves that can tempt the dead from their bed. My soul longs for both. I cannot drift off to peaceful sleep until the waves of desire find their sweet release. A wondrous storm of love in a turbulent sea or a steadfast anchor that has taken hold on a part of me

And they asked me
"Are you down to ****? Or  do you prefer friends with benefits?
Either way there would never be any emotions involved", they say
I said "no, I don’t want any of those things"
Their faces started to change
My guards are high up and they suddenly wanted the chase

But "seriously no", I reiterated
"I don’t want my body to be used in any of your fantasies
It’s not that I haven’t tried any of those things you are imagining right now
I have been there, I have done that
Far too many times than the acceptable number
But I am not ashamed, I am not proud either"

Some of them turned their backs on me due to their dismay
“You shouldn’t really be here” they say
But I am just looking for someone to talk to
This is something that they really cannot accept

I know that my credentials fill your heads with imagination
My photos burn your souls alive
And my words linger in your minds
I have you all trapped under my finger tips
You all want me, but I don’t want you
I am sorry, but not in that way

Because I have been there, I have done that
Far too many times than the acceptable number
But I am not ashamed, I am not proud either
Because I know my worth
And none of you deserves my

The light at the end of the tunnel
Turns out to be a fleck of the halogen glow
Of a streetlight, a guiding beacon for the lost
The ****** and the awake in the hours of repose.

I count myself among the nocturnal demographic,
Cold, shivering, dejected till the first light of Dawn,
Brings me rest and sleep.

I am part of the night shift

With me are  thousands of others,
Walking towards the factories and mines,
Which feed the endeavour of materialistic existence.
A damnation that those who repose now,
Will never understand.

The shift begins in silence and ends in a blast of the siren,
Declaring our freedom, granting us permission,
To be free again, bathed in the first lights of Dawn,
As we ascend from the pits of the Earth,
The boiler rooms, chambers and assembly units,
In mines, factories, manufacturing plants,
To repose and miss the Sun,
Till the cycle begins again.