sandcastles

it's the indignity of hope, of expectation

that i cannot stand

i hope you will sit closer to me,

and when you don't

i wish for a shovel with which i can

bury myself in the sand

disappointment

I sometimes wonder what it would have been like

To fuck you

Although, back when we knew each other

I wouldn't have called it fucking

Even sex would have seemed too crude a word

I was so young

Too young to sleep with someone

Like you

You would have been so confident

About showing me what a man can make a woman

Feel

That I would just lay there, wondering

When it would be over

More

A man who loves me,

Hell, even a man who likes me

The world has taught me to

Lower my expectations

Keep my wishes realistic

But when you almost kiss me

When your hand rests too briefly on my back

I can't stop myself from hoping

For something more

hope

I know how things will end between us

My interest will wane, and you will continue to

Live your life

And we will laugh at the jokes

Our friends make, empty our drinks

You will leave, eventually

And I will forget about you

But there are moments,

I won't lie,

When I look at you

And imagine what it would be like

If you looked my way

Just once

stay.

"Don't leave"

You mumble in your sleep

It's more about you not wanting to

Wake up, get dressed and see me to my

Transport home

Than it is about wanting me to stay

And yet, I hold on to those words

Thank you with a quick kiss on the cheek

Which you probably don't even feel

You go back to sleep after I leave

Dream about the woman you love

The life you want with her

And I toss and turn your words in my mind

Savour them like a sweet lozenge melting in my mouth

Before they turn into nothingness

And slip away from my mind

love

why cant men limit their affections

to those hours of waking up

instead of letting them contaminate

our hours apart

why do men look for love

where there is none to give

insist that they can change

what is set in stone

lost... not found

Where is the tenderness I seek

Is it under nails, like dirt,

On turmeric-stained fingers?

Will I find it if I scream my voice hoarse

In a tranquil forest that does not talk back?

Is it, perhaps, lost beneath photo albums

Moments from long ago yellowing with age?

Was it put away by mistake with dusty Christmas

Ornaments, no longer taken out once a year?

silence

You once promised to share your poetry with me

"Let me send them to you"

You never did

That was the last time we really spoke, you know?

A few, tired words as the sun readied itself

For another day

Your world is made up of words

You pluck them like ripe fruit

Arrange them like constellations

Weave them together like yarn

And yet, when I sit next to you

Look for the tiniest morsel of

Hope? Interest? Reciprocation?

Acknowledgment of what once was

What could have been?

I don't even know

You have no words to give me

None at all

Word of the day: logophile

a lover of words

Phobia

a quick google search tells me that

the ten most common phobias include

ophidiophobia: an intense fear of snakes

aerophobia: an intense fear of flying

astraphobia: an intense fear of thunder and lightening

agoraphobia, social phobia, mysophobia

and so on

but what about the fear that keeps us up late at night?

forces us to change our ways, settle for less?

makes us choose the wrong people, live the wrong lives?

what about that intense fear of loneliness

that blooms from our skin, little forget-me-nots

deceptively delicate, and yet so eager to grow?

Water

I'm water

Taking shape

In whatever mould

Another hands me

And I feel myself

Turning into vapour

Droplets in the air

Soon to be nothing

I need to be a solid

Like wood or metal

Unchanging

Against your needs