Death Itself: And Other Poems

Fallen

You don't know where it came from

This sudden, what was the word?

Desire, maybe

Longing, perhaps

Need was better

This sudden need for him

To be around him

To talk to him

To make him laugh

To have him accept you

To have him like you

To have him need you in this same way

It doesn't occupy your thoughts often

Only when he's around

Only when his name is brought up

Only when you see

Or hear

Or smell

Or taste

Or touch something

Something that reminds you of him

And occasionally you find yourself wanting to do something stupid

To reach out and take his hand in yours just to touch it

To press your lips to his and see what it would taste like

To tell him all your secrets and then see how he looks at you

To open yourself up to him like a firing range

Hanging yourself as the target and screaming

'Go ahead and shoot!'

But you do none of this

You nod and smile and listen

You focus on memorizing the way he looks when he smiles

You choose your words carefully and hope he looks closely

You stare long and hard

Then when it's all over you go home

And you think of him

And you think of him

And you think of him

And you find that the more you think of him

The more dream-like it all seems

The mystery grows and grows

You still can't answer the one question

'When did I fall in love?'