Dream Lovers series;

Chris

I think I loved you, my jalapeño action-king,

with your artistic self-centeredness and your surprising kindness;

you were so remote that I couldn’t touch you,

hiding behind your walls, not wanting to be seen.

I sometimes wondered at your diet soda ways,

wanting to be whole, complete, but pretending to be different

as you wandered along a world of your own,

pretending I wasn’t there.

Your eyes would gleam under the neon lights

as you sketched away the morning star, and wiled away your life,

filled with the passions of creation, a cartoonist paradise,

wanting to be famous, worshipped, idolized.

You dressed in black from head to toe,

trying to be dramatic the only way you knew how,

and no matter what I did to catch your attentions,

you were so busy loving yourself that I wasn’t really there.