The day is long-
my thoughts are few.
I must stop thinking
about you.

Must black out the sun,
Must fold up the sky.
And somehow return
To before July.

There is a time
When minds should dwell.
It wasn't mine. I knew that well.

The rain fell down with half its might;
trying to smite the flowers.
But the bed was merely lodged,
The rain used half its power.
There was nothing could be done,
The rain could not pretend.
The flowers waited for the sun
To lift them up again.

You are the thing
Which is not a thing-
Yet the only thing that is.
And I - a tiny thunderstorm -
with no regard for this.

You are the man
Who is not a man,
And the only one who is.
And I - an angry child -
I am oblivious.

                                                          Without you I am nothing,
                                                          and still I continue to run;
                                                          wreaking havoc as I go.
                                                          Bruising everyone.
                                                          At times it would seem
                                                          I am determined to be nothing.
You are the friend
Who is not a friend,
But the only friend that is.
And I - a tired fugitive -
Undesperate to resist.

But you're untouchable,
and though your eyes speak differently;
the invitation is imagined,
the closeness; mere proximity.

I had no instruction,
and no intention to adhere.

You prodded, pulled and pushed
my precautions aside,
passively dealing every blow.
But I couldn't even wound your pride;
You are untouchable.

I hear echoes of you
                     in everyone else
                     and everyone else
Can hear them in me.

You're all the company I would keep,
If choosing were a choice.
If oceans were dams, and miles were feet,
and I could hear your voice.

Our fatal flaw will always be
In my loneliest moments -
You are asleep.