Author Information
From Me
Folder:
Lesser-ish poems Lust, at first
want of tongue and body, ruled by pelvic thrust,
want of enfolding and rolling, of
caresses and touches;
give way to the agony of indecision,
of doubt and uncertainty
want of real words, ruled by first impressions,
want of truthfulness and phone calls, of
carefree smiles and touches.
Later, now, and she's special, still,
but hope's been given up, give way to
want of friendship and openness, ruled by humor
want of laughter and secrets, of
talking and touches;
and a month later and you're thinking of her,
haven't heard or tried to call
want of face and voice, ruled by memory's longing,
want of company and aimless driving, of
movies and touches.
You'd like to call her, leave a simple message;
instead of saying "I miss you,"
you'd say in a hurt, true voice,
"you're missing from me."
