i'm lonely.
this house is too big,
and the walls have been the same shade of
pale blue
for
too long.

when he comes to me
he reminds me of everything
i ever wanted
in
someone.

it's not hard.
i just,
act the same way he does.
and we pretend,
she doesn't exist.

we haven't ******.
not yet.

but we stare,
and we watch.
we glance,
and we fight the smile.

fingers linger while passing
and sometimes
we can't resist falling into
each others arms
and holding tight
for a few terrifying seconds.

trembling,
smelling each others smell,
burying our heads in the sand.
pretending,
that no one in the world
can see us,
and this
is how it could
and should
always be.


then we let go.
only our eyes, thoughts,
and those sweet smells
lingering.

i'm lonely
and maybe he is too.

it's wrong
and i know it.
but these days,
the morals,
which i remember having,
aren't enough to make me say

no.
we can't.

i'm lonely.
and that's enough
to think

maybe we can...

i haven't had a drink in months.
but the bottle in the freezer
tugs at my sleeve.
sweet and slippery
down the throat and into the gullet
it wouldn't be hard.

to take just one day to say
**** all
and lay in a pile
of my own
listlessness.

thirsty voices shout
about how all that is well
is bound to spoil.
and they remind me that
dawn is always followed by dark nights
and that tomorrow is my day off anyway.

they whisper...
wallow,
drink,
drown,
give up and float in the only
steady arms you have known
in a long
long time.

just one day
of the old shine.
just one day
of the old you.
we never did formally say goodbye
and you would hate to be rude.

you are a shadow in the dark.
merely warmth and weight,
a delicious ebb and flow
that i float in.
my childish thoughts playing through the moment.

"look at me" you pant.
a heavy breathed plea
disguised as an empowering ****** command.

i open my eyes and pull you close.
reducing you again,
to a set of lips and an unshaven jawline
to the soft connection of neck and shoulder.

you say "i love you" in a voice that
sounds more like "i love this".
i try my best not to notice.

and when the end comes near,
it's almost instinct to push away.
back into the soft embrace of cotton and fluff.
eyes closing once more
rolling back and staring deep
into an inner void.
into a place that needs this impromptu encounter.
a place that wants to forget the shadow that was here before.
a place,
where you can not follow.

i have an affinity for being in your proximity.
and you don't see me,
not yet...

but i'm here, taking you in slowly
sip by sip.
my water weary mouth relishing
the sweet undertones of your wine.

i tell myself not to guzzle greedy gulps
and waste those dribbling drops that
roll down my chin.

how do i explain to you?
how do i even express
that excess pressure in my chest
that only comes on when you
drop careless winks
like tarnished pennies in a beggar's cup.

making me the beggar,
a terrified transient just looking for a hand out.
unwilling to look you in the eye as i stand
with limp hands hanging, hoping to catch
the tender of your time
asking you to please
pay attention.

he said
"that's what i want...a good hard rain"
and the next day it rained.

watching the heavy drops bombard
the small broken house i hide in. i wait
waiting for a leak to spring.
waiting for buckets filling up with rain water
making that uneven
plinking,
                                         plopping,
                plonking,
dripping,
                            dropping,
music that drives me mad and puts the dogs to sleep.
waiting for the rivers to creep in under the doors
and dampen furniture so it wont dry till june.
waiting for the cold wind that blows right through the windows
and the power to fail
like it does,
every time it rains.

he wanted a good hard rain
and it's here.

he will walk in,
all smiles and dripping drops and muddy foot prints
"isn't it wonderful? isn't it perfect?!"
and i
wrapped in yards of blankets and layers of ripped clothing
will agree and try to ignore his laughter
at my misery.

let's run, hand in hand, and promise not to look back.
we are young and lean with eager muscles and limbs,
built for flight.
let's run away and hide from peeping eyes.
let's not share the little we have
of us,
with them.

let's run
bodies burning and breaking down
while we gallop on rooftops
leaving a wake of suspicious whispers
and longing looks into the setting sun.
we will be leaping shadows against the
dusk's failing light. stretching long limbs,
over towns
and cities,
counties
and countries,
dark expanding space
and wide wonderful worlds.

run with me till we find what we are looking for
or until we drop dead
with ****** feet and stretching hands
still begging for something to hold on to.

i'm tired of these walls
i'm tired of this life
take me away
or follow me into the night.
run with me,
and promise never to look back.

we had been standing in line for hours.
our good, respectable clothes had long gone from
neat and pressed
to
wrinkled
limp and sweaty.

they take us in
one by one
and ask us questions
that make us stumble and nervously
fidget while they scribble notes and
raise eyebrows, waiting for us,
to show them
why we
deserve (out of all the other unwashed fools)
to work
for them.

when it's done we thank them for
their time, even though they never thank us
for ours.
and that night
they pick and choose
they skim over and laugh at bad handwriting
and the clothes we wore.

at the end of our day, we
the line of prospects,
lay in our beds,
in our homes,
praying to be chosen.
praying to ascend from this
depressing nothingness
to leave empty days
and worrisome nights
far behind.

and when that phone call doesn't come
we (because there are always far more left behind then chosen.)
shrink.
defeated and deflated,
we wipe our bleary eyes
and shuffle onto the next line.
trying like hell to
polishing up those old shoes
and stitching together that good blouse
hoping to get one more solid use out of them before
they fall apart.