To me, sad fantasy
Feels better than almost anything.
I’m aware, sensitive,
Permeated by waves of mood.
Everything else
Is a distraction of hope.
Even the desires
That I pine for could do no more
Than teardrop chords
Dancing prettily down your face.
Most of us
Want affection in safe hands.
So do I,
But, they just never feel safe enough.
I’m most alright
When I’m thoughtful and alone,
And never more alive
Than listening to you sing sad songs.
Poems and Short Stories 