Saturday, August 29, 2009


The day has arrived.
I sit upon this bed in the shadows of morning.
And still
No call, no call, no call.

My day waists for you.
Every moment, every second,
Set aside
For loving you.
But I am alone now.

I should be with you
In the dark of some movie theater
Nervous, afraid
But so thrilled
To be in your presence.

I should be running
My fingertips
Along the soft cradle
Of your hands.
In wonder of their plains
And perfect proportion.

I could be speaking to you
In quiet tones
Afraid the
Thud, thud, thud,
Of my heart will be heard
At your nearness.

This day is for you
I wrote your name on it
In my clumsy child like script.
I was so excited
So naive.
But I am alone now.

So call, . . . or don't.
I don't care.
I don't really want to know
How your spending today.
I don't.
I try and try, not to think of
Where you are.

Because I know the most
Likely place
Is the place that causes me pain.
But I do wonder if you think of me this day.
If you remember, or if you forget.

How easily I am replaced.

How quickly I am blown from your mind.

"Please, please don't love her."

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