Finishing It

This is the ending note to a previous work of mine, Dancing in the rain (http://www.darkpoetry.com/dp/6232/100497). This has been rolling around in my head now for quite some time, so I figured it was time to get it out.

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(...being continued)


Welcome back!
to this world of mine,
it's beauty in itself.

There's cars and trucks and boats and houses,
and food on the shelves, of my house...

Of all the things, I can say I own,
objects of desire, are a plus.

However, one item still falls,
just out of reach,
of my "spend it all now" philosophy.

That item, it seems,
has become apparent,
to be [the absence of] a body beside me...

The lack of weight,
to balance my water bed,
is starting to annoy(?) me.

You see, the problem with first love,
is it becomes a measuring stick,
by which every later love must be ruled...


Why am I still thinking of you?
Why is this something I cannot let go?
Is it yearning, or regret, or curiosity?
Or something that doesn't even show?

This should be no more difficult,
than tossing a cigarette butt,
out the window of a car,
but this one seems to have come back,
to burn another hole in my work pants...


I have a good group of friends,
so no issues there,
I've made a few enemies,
as is bound to happen.

But why is it no girl comes close,
when I weigh them on the scale and compare?
Why do I see your eyes,
When another girl looks at me with desire?

When I touch them why does their skin feel like sandpaper,
compared to the undeniable beauty,
of your (once?) flawless body...

When I'm alone in my head,
dredging through the sewers of my past,
Why is it your voice I hear around the corner,
calling like a Siren, to come revisit the memories,
Of which I am so very fond...


I still haven't figured it out yet,
Why I'm so caught up on this.
I guess I just want more time to talk to you,
To vent some of my (emo?) soul,
into your more than delicious ears...

However boys will be boys,
and I still have my toys,
as a distraction for the time being, I guess.

I still take comfort in the last shred of hope I have left,
that you said that one day you'd come back...




for me(?)...


I suppose in the meantime,
I'll just deal with defeat,
even though it goes against my personality...

But maybe in the future after that last shred of hope,
has been ripped from my hands by the winds of time,
I'll settle for imperfection, in the arms of a woman,
who cares for me, as I try(?) to return the favor.

Or maybe I'll strive on,
hoping, dreaming, wishing, wanting,
Until we're old and gray,
And one of us finally,


Finishes it.









/ Lucia /