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Whether right or wrong in some ways we fell together
as if waves crash upon the sea,
our lives did meet

He very artsy, 
I, just a dreamer 
yet I confided 
in him like noneother

He had the most radiant smile
that made mine come through
and though a decade younger
we liked the same food,
shows and shared much over the weekends 
and dominos pizza endeavors

Time, time, time...
it can be your own prison if you let it
I prefer remembering the good
forgetting the callous words in the end

Medicinal wine for jetlag?
sure.
as the waves carried us away off shore
For we were just watching T.V.
A little imbibed on that six dollar wine
It seemed so natural
he in the reliner,
me with legs bent on the couch
Nothing romantic
as he knew my heart was with another writer,
surely not!

You need not drive,
I would feel bad if something happened to you
or someone else
You can sleep on top the covers,
and I'll sleep under them
"no problem"

Why he did not listen!
and the next thing I knew I was in too deep
His delicate hands so gentle
even in my fourties,
never a man so soft, in touch

He confided so much of his trauma and pain
I helped him some I tend to believe
afterall,
he knew from the start,
my heart belonged to another writer
even if it was just through verse

He knew of my struggles,
he knew of my pain
He knew all the little secrets,
these subtle, girly things

One evening,
long after I chose another path
drinking six dollar bottles of wine
much of the time
and my life was successful, though left in a sea
cast out somewhere in the middle thereof
by life
by love 
by God withstanding I would survive this afterall!


(it's an edge man,
it's the writing edge!)
(and what a bunch of bolgna)

yet today I dream of subtle things
the cleanliness of true love,
and it's something I am yet to experience among things

What would it be like,
I, just a dreamer
to rest comfortably beside a moral man as he?
I would never raise my voice or be indifferent,
I would never disrespect him or anyone ever
If I could just rest my head
on a pillow so close
to the heart of another writer

love- it can be a prison if you let it
I, just a dreamer
I give up those silly dreams
and hug my pillow 
and peacefully drift off to sleep
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