I want to talk to her.

See her face, look

In to her eyes.

See if there’s still

That glint hidden there,

See if she still

Tries to hide it.

But more than that,

I want her to talk to me.

And I need,

Need so much,

Her to want to talk to me.

About everything.

Life, death, music,

Food, drink, dancing,

Thoughts, dreams, fantasies.




What did I do wrong?

Apart from wanting

To be and do everything


It’s a vague hope.

I know I’ll hold on to it

For a long time.

And I know

She never will.