Confession #3

When I walk and feel the wind

I can not help but think of him.

The breeze, it should not move me so,

and yet so strong the feelings flow.

A firey devil, he burns my dreams

and nothing do I for him it seems.

The heat, the passion - is it real?

Or is it nothing that I feel?

Fatigued, distracted, and still alone,

Here's to the seeds I haven't sewn.

Confession #2

Last night we touched. It was nothing more than a reaction in conversation, but I realized the second that it happened that it should not have. I felt alive being able to talk to you, one adult to another. And even though he was near by, I felt we shared a moment. I would like to go there again. The nothingness we talk about haunts me. Today, you probably don't even remember. I was a dream, a fleeting memory to you. You will wonder if it was real, or was it a dream?

I am scared. I do not know how to overcome this. You may haunt me for the rest of my life. What reasonable person sits in the dark at midnight lamenting something that was nothing. Lamenting, and yet hoping, even scheming for it to happen again. Why? What do I expect to happen? Only trouble! Trouble that I have seen too many times, and that I know is disaster.