To Fall.

An image of imperfection
surrounds me once more.
I am supremely jealous
Of your secret talent that I
could never possess.

I dreamt one night this week,
that you considered me.
A simple conversation determined
to determine the outcome of my morning.
I'm really hoping
that it becomes dejavu.

But, no,
This could never happen.
steadfast in your non-belief,
While I believe too much.
Such a beautiful mind,
Versus Such a delicate heart.

The battle in my head ensues,
fast forward to seven months.
The interest in my mind
is back and forth between
sex and peace,
love and dreams.

Even lately I've come to see
nothing I write is any good
unless its all about you and me.

-A