Thursday, August 20, 2009


I fold to my own unknowing.
Why the heart chooses,
who; it chooses.
When a look is more penetrating than a needle to my vein.
How clumsy I am made.
Nervously I sit;
try not to look so obvious...
I forget to saver the moment when I am in her arms.
It's only a hug.
She doesn't see me this way...
She doesn't catch fire every time I say something clever.
Her eyes will never trace the flesh of my body with longing.
Yet I covet her to my own detriment.
However the hours, she is present in my mind.
The days that pass between us only strengthens my desire.
The thread of seconds that stitches my heart into knots over why...
How foolish is the human heart;
that it can not tell the difference, and it can not seem to reason....
no matter how many times it breaks.

November 19, 2007

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