copied from a tattered notebook. written circa summer 2006.
my words should incise you. they incise me as well. i'm frustrated. i feel stuck in one place, in one position, in one time.
i'm tired of long days alone. i'm tired of counting down minutes, hours, days.
meet me in the middle.
you asked to see my paintings. i'll never show you those. i don't share them with anyone. you can see my words, you can see my selective thoughts. but you can't see imagery that pours from my fingers. faint figures that are smeared together. i don't want you to see something messy and marred. don't look at the negative, scared, ugly child on the canvas. i only want to show you beauty. [don't look at my scars, look at my freckles.]
it's a case of heart versus head. i'm smarter than this. it's presently a hopeless situation. what am i to do? wait for a year to pass when i'm unrestricted? when i'm more flexible and open to change? when i can tell you the time and place to meet me? [down the street from the home you share, where no one knows us and our secret is safe.]
yes, it's you who went missing from smell, touch, taste. out of sight, out of mind, out of reach. it's not something easily remedied. someone will get hurt. inevitability is painful.
it's you who went missing, but i'm hopeful that i'm missing as well.
do i regret the time spent together? no. but i wish i could overcome distance and time and situation and be able to give you something more than typewritten words, and feeble excuses. we were a sloppy conversation punctuated by sex. but those elipses were so delicious.
i wanted to give you myself.
what do you want?
Created: Jan 23, 2010Document Media