Wind worn hair and skin,
Dry and tight,

Because the wind blows cold at night,

And I have to travel great distances to get to you,
And you will only receive me,
When shocked.

So I disrobe along the street's side walks to display my desperation.

And when I knock,
Knock at your door with knuckles stiffened, cracking,
And you rush it open swinging, bringing me back into your sanctity,

To find I've come in ******* form to claim love like a debtor,
I see the draining of your forces behind impenetrable gates,
As we converse under the false pretense of

Continuing conversation.

And when I'm walking home,
Wearing what you've lent me,

Feeling sullen, but cared for,

I realize, remember,
You've never gotten what I've delivered to so many friends and lovers,

And that's when I feel alone.
My demands seen through your eyes.
Leaning as I walk toward a place polite and graceless.