what i really wanted to say to you was roll over, face me, hold me, look at me, something along those lines. it was much better in need than in words. I'm not good at these things, saying them or feeling them but i felt old lying next you backs facing each other as if we'd fallen into a geriatric level. i woke up and you were gone, across the room but the bed was warm enough and cold enough to know you had been there and you weren't there any longer. i don't know why you got up, the sun did not seem as beautiful as other days and i needed you there, it wasn't just want any longer I've grown into need. looking out the window i could see your mapping but i could not see your thoughts and it was far too late, the moment's long past for me to ask you to share. missed opportunity, the first regret in so long. we are quiet, mostly. little parts, very little sections of life shared each time we've met. We've gathered enough information from each other that i would from a 10 minute conversation with another. you make me shy. so now i write about you and i think about those rays of sun you were so intent at watching and i know you have become a muse in some bizarre way... some bizarre unwelcome way. when we were together it felt like i was having sex with myself, you are how i perceive my isolation. although I don't expert you to understand.

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