Doesn’t she know?

How could she not.

Doesn’t she feel it,

Doesn’t she notice that piece of him that has gone missing,

again?

And where does it go,

where does he take it and

who does he give it to?

Does she know?

I guess not, but I know.

It isn’t lost or misplaced.

I have captured it.

I hold that missing and best part of him.

The part that she is missing.

The part he gives only to me.

The pieces of him that I can’t have are far greater than the one she misses,

but at least I know what to name it.

It is all in my head.

I know its a lot to expect but

why can’t you just be the man I imagine you to be?

In my deepest, darkest hours, you still shine through

But only in my dreams is it the you I want you to be.

Is that too much to ask?

The holding and passion is only a play,

playing us off each other.

Yet our connection, the deep and lasting one, remains in my mind only and

unfortunately,

I have gone there without you,

again.

They sit in piles on my bureau,

Stacks on end tables and desktop.

They stand in rows on shelves and are silent.

Each holds it own unique secrets.

I can hear their silent words, and

feel their thoughts pushing against their covers.

They wait and are patient.

A wealth of knowledge standing by,

always steady in their thoughts, never changing their minds,

dependable and steadfast,

reliable and faithful.

I feel their presence surround me,

taste their flavor,

and am overwhelmed by their potential.

They hold the keys to so much,

so much just waiting on the shelves, desktops and end tables

enriching my space with their presence,

waiting for me to open their covers and

set their words free.