Of the man who knows, I say why? Though I'll never say so directly to you. I sit here alone while solitaire keeps me company, not even aware that you are near for only once you might come by in a week. The door opens and there you are, sky blue shirt worn with ease just as your smile. Brown hair and a bronze body as fit as I wish I were interrupt my train of thought enough that all I can do is wear a stupid grin and make monosyllable sounds to whatever words you might be saying to me at the time. I grit my teeth in anger and lust when you are gone. Amont the other attributes I wish I had you possess confidence perhaps with a slight bit of egoism melted in. As you walk away, in sweet irony it rains. By next week I'll have forgotten just in time for you to show up and renew this thirst I must never quench.
AEM - 2003