Walking Through My Life

I’m so torn, I want you,

I don’t want you,

I want only you to know

I want you in my life.

The ‘don’t’ is so ridiculously

inaccurate when I look at rain-soaked

windows, and sleet lain streets

only to imagine being with you,

in any climate,

being happy and content,

if only

to live inside your eyes.

I wake every morning,

slats open to feed the daylight,

and all I do is look again,

into the physical silence

of a yearn for words,

of an anything

that allows me to imagine,

I might be

nearer your mind

then the shadows

around me,

no longer

speaking

to me.

I tell myself to stop,

quit the insanity

of love,

of understanding

love.

Posted

April 3, 2020

a quiet man

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