just the same

I want your poetry to make me dream,
because all I ever have anymore is nightmares;

I want your prose to take me away,
because I don't want to be here anymore;

I want your eyes to see the pain inside me,
because I need someone to understand;

I want your hands to hold mine tightly,
because I hope that will keep me from disappearing;

I want your arms to encircle my tired self,
because I want you to squeeze out all of the hurt;

I want so much from you always,
even though I know it won't really change a thing.

April 23, 2009, for Kimberly.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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