I’m glad you moved on,
and clicked the “meet me” button.
That means you’re available,
even if you’re just up the hill.

I won’t use forbidden words
You’ve so often heard
to describe you.
They must chide you.

Instead, I’ll offer my selfless heart.
With that kindness, that’s how I’ll start:
Give of my giving self
to pull you off your shelf.

A spontaneous creative man with a young soul,
coupled with a similar woman: Come on, let’s go!

What if
your loneliness
pushed me
into a choice
I didn’t want to make yet.

What if,
as I look back on it,
I realize
I chose too soon.

What if
the crying
and goodbyeing
were caused by you thinking
in your mind
it would probably
happen eventually.

What if
I was confused
again
about what I wanted,
where I wanted to live,
how I wanted to be.

What if
you had said
nothing;
had let it play out;
had let me figure me out.

What if
you didn’t know
a few days later
that I’d look at your photos
and want to go
back
to where I was before,
before all the
what ifs
happened.

What if you
were wrong.

After talking again,/
I’ve become such a fan./
I gaze again/
at her profile when/
I can./
But just because I gawk her/
doesn’t make me a stalker/
or a nut,/
does it?

The taste of you on/
my lips doesn’t go away/
although you left me.

When I told her I wrote poetry, a woman told me “All poems have been written”. This are my poetic responses.

It’s hard speaking of poems from ignorance./
Like saying all great dances were already danced./
Don’t repeat riding thru the glade./
All love is already made.

Later (9 p.m.) I wrote this Haiku
One of the saddest/
and most absurd silly things/
that I’ve ever heard

I regret
that I let
you go.
You know,

I’m not amused.
Just confused.
No meanness intended,
I just extended

my soul
and lost control.
And now I’m here
on email and phone
alone.

It’s the same sad story:
I can just say I’m sorry,
as we both cry
and say goodbye.

Her flaming red hair/
draws me like a moth to flame,/
but her fire won’t burn.

“Never enough” is/
not always about her. Guys/
are sometimes confused.

Is that all you want? A hug?
Oh, E, oh! I need so much more!
I need you to roll up the rug!
I need us to tear up the floor.

I need to caress your sweet-framed face,
to put you in a trance,
as I glide you from place to place,
in a soft, warm late autumn dance.

And then you’ll take me by the hand,
and lead me where you will:
up stairs, down halls, to promised lands,
where our volcanic intensity thrills.

Where days, weeks, months, years of craving
moves and melts into fun misbehaving.

You COULD call me and not miss me so much.
My fingers aren’t the only things that touch.
My voice sometimes breaks through the shrouds,
caresses your heart and mind, lifts the clouds.

But now … ?
I’m recovering from the silence,
from wondering where you went.
For when you converse and wonderfully flirt,
then disappear … it’s gonna hurt.

And I’ll need time to recover
before I can again be a lover.