The last for my impossible . . .

[Guest Jess]

These are the last two poems I've written, so far, to the guy I can't get enough of. Please tell me what you think.

 

Weeping

 

I want to lie in your arms as a friend,

And weep until I've no tears left to cry.

I want to lie in your arms as a lover,

And weep until I've no tears left to cry.

I want you to lie in my arms as a friend,

And weep until you've no tears left to cry.

I want you to lie in my arms as a lover,

And weep until you've no tears left to cry.

But society tells you no,

And you tuck your tail,

Between your legs,

And slink away,

Like the dog you never should have been.

You can't see what your doing;

You're blind to me.

You can't hear my screams of agony;

You're deaf to me.

So I sit and let pieces of myself,

Wash away like a sandy riverbed,

Hoping a light will come to your eyes,

And a note to your ears.

 

 

Him

 

A young woman sees an older man.

She thinks to herself,

He's cute, but too old.

She sees him the next day,

And she thinks to herself,

He's attractive, but too smart.

When she sees him again

She thinks to herself,

I love the way he looks,

But he's to funny for me.

She goes home that day,

And looks in the mirror.

She thinks to herself,

He'll never see me

The way that I wish.

He'll never see me

As what he wants.

Why can't I be older?

Why can't I be smarter?

Why can't I be funnier?

Why can't I be beautiful?

[Falcon2001]

Jess, these are good poems, and I hate to think of the pain you're going through to write these. I wish I could offer you a little bit of solace and peace, and I'll do anything I can.

 

You know that.

 

Once again, really good poetry here.

Cioden Darkeye

 

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