Each piece contributes. One piece into the other. A rebirth of sense. I have been folding myself over and over into a tiny piece. Waiting for the treasure within to cough or hiccup or be whole. Waiting so is not Taoist or Zen, it is merely a mundane melancholy similar to visiting the dentist.

Despite my impotent being, unable to complete my desire, I remain full of potential. I remain loving and sound, solid like the rock in your pocket. I am everything and the only thing, just without you. I am my own white noise and a whisper of baffled voice, I am, and remain.

If we talk loud, or shout, or move, the dream of houses with endless rooms will die. Houses in dreams are women, and you are my house.

I want to tell you that I have left spilling flower petals out of my dress like Venus, but I am not Venus, and the flower petals are stuck in an envelope on my kitchen table. They sit there addressed to you, lost and dried out. I want to send them as a piece of myself, as a piece of my love to be littered upon your tummy like Hrabal meant. It cannot be so and flower petals don't last, they wither in the sun and blow in wind, to far away places we will never find.

Be sure that I am with you. I am the song that lingers in the still night and the shadow that dances upon your walls. I have hope, despite the pennies in my throat. I swallow and maintain unrequited love.. Your love was too fond to let go and I let it roll obtuse in me. I love it, despite the absence and I stare at the ceiling of my cold room at night wondering if you are awake too and can hear my prayers. I know it is merely a dream to become but…

But what? What do you mean, you are full of vague indiscretions, full of wondrous thought, what do you mean?

Mean? I only desire your arm to slip under mine as we walk down boulevards on our way for coffee. I only want to feel you close and for you to laugh and be whole. I want to be the man that holds you tight.

I want to be a mosaic of mystery that provides you with surprise. The only man to find your delight in a still ocean, to suck the salt off the tip of your nose. I want to be him

If I were just a piece of a man in a dream of houses that sucked the salt off your nose I might be weak. Be sure that I am strong and willing to give everything to you. Be sure as you read this that my kisses would be soft and true. Please don't give up on me and move onto someone that cannot cook. I want you more than all the desires we hope to forget. I need you more than anything, If you can be with me, if you can be with me, if you can be with me….

I am always with you.

I am a piece of format, a fingernail of ceramic that fits in with you.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.