I can close my eyes and see you
as sure as I see my hand in front of this keyboard.
It’s so tempting to just disappear there
the way people go out for groceries after dark
and are never seen again.
The mind remains a mystery
to the most brilliant people in the world
like questions God would never answer under a gun.
But, I don’t need to understand.
As long as I stay on the receiving end,
like a corrupt official,
there’s no line I would not cross,
to keep it real.
Last night
I freed you from a locked room
and you jumped into my arms in gratitude.
I raised you to my waist,
felt your weight like something I’d physically handled before,
squeezed your cheeks through tight jeans
and I still remember precisely
how much was muscle and how much could have endorsed silicone.
Your legs wrapped around me
like pieces snapped in place during assembly.
We kissed and I traced my tongue across your bottom lip
before wrapping both of mine around it
like the mouth of a bottle.
You mimicked my move, then got a little more conventional.
We stopped more like a pause
the way divers swim to the surface
before really going under.
I stared so deeply into your eyes
as you held my face in your hands
like a museum artifact,
it felt as though I shared every thought and feeling
I ever had about you,
with them.
I know it was just a dream,
but I’ll be damned
if it wasn’t just as real as any intimacy
I’ve ever actually experienced
and possibly, better than.
I know that’s sad,
but ask me if I care.
I see more of you in my sleep
than I do awake.
So if I had to choose,
guess where I’d rather be?
In real life
there’s just too much ambiguity.
Unspoken tensions
played out in body language, long sighs and bitten tongues.
In real time,
furled brows, downward glares, hung heads,
mixed signals, over read comments, unfinished conversation.
In my dreams
I can just do what I want,
and all I want is to be closer to you than I really am.
When I close my eyes
I feel you
as sure as I can feel tears travel like water in the showers I take.
I mourn you from last night
the way survivors miss the deceased.
And I would live in my dreams
the way they would in yesterday or last week
just to properly say goodbye or I’m sorry.
You are my constant
like North on a compass,
and of all the girls I have ever wanted
yours is the most recurring role
I can recollect.
I couldn’t begin to explain why.
If I turned it into fiction,
all my imagination would not be enough.
All I can say for sure
is that there has never been anything more disappointing
than waking up. _________________ shemovesme.wordpress.com
Sat Feb 18, 2012 6:59 am
MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
Posts: 3419
Location: I come from a land downunder
My dear, dear Brach....you have written many pieces that I have marvelled at, cried about or smiled through. But I dont think you have ever written something that got so close to my own heart and soul and had me nodding my head and whispering "yes, I understand".
You have to be one of us, those who dream, either of a love not yet had or one had and now lost to us...either way we wake up disappointed
I know it was just a dream,
but I’ll be damned
if it wasn’t just as real as any intimacy
I’ve ever actually experienced
and possibly, better than.
I know that’s sad,
but ask me if I care.
I see more of you in my sleep
than I do awake.
So if I had to choose,
guess where I’d rather be?
I know where I would be for sure
HugZ, MG
_________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
Sun Feb 19, 2012 12:22 pm
BdeCaunteton
Joined: 07 Jan 2007
Posts: 955
Location: Iowa City, IA
Goddess I've forgotten some people on this earth can actually write *real* poetry!
Thank you, brach. _________________ “It would be a pity of lesbians and gay men retreated into the same kind of cultural separatism. " - Jeanette Winterson
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