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.