He had been for so long:
speaking to me;
through hesitancy…
hands in his pockets,
his own needs,
self-rendered obsolete;
and so, frustratingly,
he’d come see,
so uncertain of himself,
so unstable in his health;
what can I say?
The man enchanted me…
his essence,
never left me
besides on my knees;
his touch was,
always slow and steady,
his hands were,
always on the ready;
to touch me,
to reach my inner-being,
his fingertips,
still haunt me,
when I dream,
he says he wants me…
it’s a thing,
wedged somewhere,
eternally in between…
a lasting love shared,
through an average mean;
and still,
when I think…
that it’s possibly,
him – HIS voice,
calling out from behind me,
it stops me from,
continuing on…
without at least…
…a glance behind to see.

4 thoughts on “Obsolete.

  1. kosmogonic says:

    More ponderous, seething wonder from your soul’s memory.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Simon says:

    That’s power over someone…
    You’re getting all passionate again aren’t you? 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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