Poetry

I am alone today,     
Alone in a cobweb     
with friends clamoring     
from the kitchen to the porch.     
Alone in the jokes bouncing off antique windows,     
alone in my own smiles and laughs, and an ominous feeling     
I share with no one. I am anonymous;     
as a face in a dark pub     
comforting itself     
with feigned ignorance,     
much like the night before.     
    
Did I fall asleep?  Does it matter?  Do I care?     
    
    
    
It's said:     
Time heals, everything arrives at a rightful place.     
I know that already, it's hell.     
    
Yet I hope     
       I want to hope     
       I need to hope,     
if only day to day.     
I could write you, express my love in abstractions     
though you would not answer back, even if you want to.     
    
    
    
I feel your graceful movements   
as real as they always are,     
then you kiss me in the awkward moment, and kiss me again.     
I say stop, shutdown,     
clean off the beer cans     
stacked on the glass table     
    
and    you    put    your arms around me     
       
    just before I fall into you     
    
on a white leather couch     
because,     
        I can only hold on from afar,