UNWRITTEN DIARIES

Unwritten Diaries

It's a feeling of swimming underwater, the eyes flicker, meets and drops once again. Now, Now, Now. And then the words stop, convenience slips in, take your time, the minutes stretch into colourful negatives. Photographs of flowerless flaws, no stars, no sunshine, no wet dreams; a place where Marshall meets Ricardo meeting De Morgan meeting Freud meeting the lies and wasted ideas of men yellowing in the pages of reject and unjustifiable care. Closer to reality and no need for hope. Just this once, a touch of absolutely no meaning, a secret smile of approval and then he can flow in with his and I will keep searching. Why didn't I? It's his eyes, black shiny stones of weakness that creep in, I am scared, his hands smell of her hair, her lips and their secrets. I couldn't. Not that he wanted it; just his shrinking under my fingers was good. Power like I wanted it but am always denied; the power of a leather whip and the Impeccable, where nothing I do is wrong, maybe love but that isn't it. Its his lips, the way they hang in need, my craving to touch at the tip and drag, just this once, when no one sees, in this blinding sun. A shadow smile of courtesy on his face and mumbled words of apology, I sink and fall, my eyes hooded from him. Let this go, I say, not this time. A twisted muscle smile with a regret stuck forver on this mid-morning I walk away, cold and self-denied.


That's the last of the times I felt. The need still gnaws and I just let it burn, waiting for love or a quench for this incessant need.