Thinking of You

I thought about you again last night. Thought of the times we've spent together, the fun we've had. I thought of the closeness we've shared, the feeling of your muscles relaxing beneath my hands, and the deep mental and emotional connection we've shared. There is something you provide to me that none of my other friends can, or care not to. My physicality expresses my emotion and receives yours via intuition and energy. It isn't about sex, at least not all of it. It's about need. I need you to be in my life. I hate to have empty, ragged holes where the night seeps through like ink across a page. And in me there stands a wreckage of half-finished timbers and concrete, built of dreams, held by personality, and strengthened by confidence. Yet I hold as much water as a sieve, and I am in constant danger of being washed away by this world. You complete me when I'm with you. You make me invincible. When the rain seems as if it will never end, you are the firmament that holds my structure together. However, I need to borrow you constantly, steal you away, turn you, twist you, becoming something I don't want to be, but I must. It isn't right. It warps me. I covet, greenly staring at the world. And I think, who is there for me? Who is there for me... when everyone who is wonderful in my world is beyond my reach?

I reach into fires and I cannot grasp what I need. I walk into the fire and I burn... flames consuming who I really am, and I find emptiness, lies and tears. So I wait, considering, thinking, wanting. And I wait.