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Thursday, July 8, 2010

Laying in bed on a Thursday morning

Laying in bed on a Thursday morning
Your eyes barely open
Still slumbering face
Mischievous smile fronts severe hangover
From a hard night’s drinking
Fuzzy thoughts of empowerment
Change and contrast
From the dull life of suburbia
Coffee in bed, spoon and milk nearby
Struggling to converse with
The stray wino who kept you up
Before I leave for work

Sitting on the chair
That someone had abandoned in the hall
Wine bottles and half full glasses
Sit on the table with too many things
Talk about everything and anything
Drink and laugh
Your delicious bitterness and sarcasm
Echo the tiny studio
Your eyes light up in rebellion
From your past and present
Comments that blast
The bullshit of the life
We are all to aspire to
Your words and slams are poetic
Even as you don’t realize
Say so much
In ways no one else can
Makes me feel closer

Walking up huge hills to follow sunshine
On cloudy, chilly days
Just a few blissful moments
As the sun begins to set
On the vacation of your presence
A matter of hours
Before you’ll return
To the dull world
You made fun of the night before

Your hot body dancing in the studio
The stray wino struggles to keep up
While jazz plays on the tv
Your moves are amazing
So sexual, so arousing
Curves and legs, hips and breasts
Amazing smile and eyes that hide nothing

The long, sweet embrace
That becomes bitter when it ends
Because it ends
Holding tight like a woman in love
Feel your heartbeat
And your soul
Knowing you’re the only one
There were none like you before
You cannot be again

The beautiful voice
That changes when drunk
Becoming sentimental or scornful
And at times sorrowful
About life that disappointed
And things that were
To be different
Including yourself

A driving force to enjoy
And live to the fullest
A lone torch in the darkness
Frustrated by the late sunrise
So beyond special

The beautiful face
With classic features
So much class
But drunken by cheap wine
Drunk with the stray wino
Your eyes gleam with energy
Despite signs of exhaustion
Defying the propers
Being adulterous with the stray wino
And loving it
Sleep hits like bricks from the sky
Hot sexy body crawls into bed

Being blessed to experience
These and so many countless others
With such a special woman
Wears on the soul
Like a beggar who
gets gourmet dinners a few times a week
Instead of the usual dollar grease burgers
It feels so amazing while dining
But so bad after the plate is empty
As he wonders if he’ll have another meal

There had been others
Few here and there
But none like you, Babe
There just aren’t Beccas running around
What and who you are
Has never been and won’t be again
You are original in every way

All the other subscribe to this or that
Follow scripts, be someone else
Cookie cutter, unoriginal, unthinking
Just following the crowd
Or going against it on purpose
No one else gets it
No one else can

there you sit
or lay or walk or talk
or drink or dance or laugh
or cry or blast or think quietly
share much with me
create memories
That haunt when you’re not here

The parking spot outside
Waits like a puppy
For his owner to get home from work
Tonight it waits in vain
The chair awaits that amazing ass
As the space longs for your voice
And energy and laugh
The table is eager for your glass
The bed is haunted by our love making
Lengthy talks, cuddled slumber
The kitchen remembers our first long embrace
After our first date
And longs for one of us to be cooking
For dinner or breakfast together
The shadows eagerly await
They remember the moves
And motions
They long to party too
Celebrate us

You’ve been gone around 13 hours now
And even as I know you’re coming back
I miss you, Beautiful
The place just isn’t the same
It won’t be until you return home.
Becca, I love you.