Saturday, January 27, 2007
And I miss him. But why should I miss him. A man is a man is a man. He is just a man, fallen, no half-fallen, not altogether fallen to the world like everyone else. Except his poetic intrigue the silent undulations of exchanged emotions and occasional glances that flit across the surfaces of each other. Skimming…like fallen leaves gliding across the reflective sea. Of sounds he is nothing but a bass note, which is everything like earth and wood and smoke. I need to know what’s beyond the trigger. I felt the morose boy in him. Felt everything sane and valid. Safe and sound – the danger world, the honest crusade. The beautiful pain of affection that coursed through my body like a humid breath. And I should have kissed him, to make him less likely to forget.