feelings.

you know the ones.

the butterflies in your stomach ones.

the coloring outside the lines undefined want.

the walk along wind-blown landscape of dreams from which no desire for waking.

(maybe not for you).

perhaps you simply pass through rooms of unchanged –

your distinction between where i began and where i end no more defined than twilight grey –

no explosion of dawn or reverence of sunset.

i enter my day riding stallions of imagination.

while you – standing there –

aware of my entry,

remain close enough to the gate for escape.

you.

dream-catcher.

pendant of treasured fondness clutched tight.

a nightlight in the fear of lonely darkness.

i can’t imagine a life after.

like hearing orchestras of contentment,

and then silence.

the nothing of an empty room.

i cannot speak to words in books of you i’ve yet to read.

but contained within the pages i’ve been given privilege to scan,

thoughts more beautiful than have –

a most necessary rain of satisfied on this desert of alone that used to be my life.

do i love you?

you decide.

for me it’s more a question of how i defined the word –

the feeling-

before you walked without precursor –

filled beyond expectation –

the empty of my could have been…