It's Not You
It's not you ... I mean, what I want ... my desires.
You do well enough, for sure ... better than anyone I've ever known.
But it's not you. In my opinion. For sure. I'm just using you.
For fun ... dancing, movies, parties, sex, companionship.
For romance ... to write poetry to, to touch, to caress.
For love ... because it's like air to me, and I need to exhale it and breathe it in.
For quality of life ... beyond mere survival, beyond fun, beyond romance ...
But it's not you ... if I want to imagine the perfect match, you wouldn't be it.
You do well enough, though ... better than anyone I've ever known.
And in my opinion ... it's not you ... couldn' t be you.
But I've been wrong before, and we both know it.
The dangers of poetry is that the poet attempts to arrive at truth
by diving into a murky depth of thought and emotion and making a grab
for whatever glimmer he may find. This is what I surfaced with today.
Love, Light, & Laughter -- BobL
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