I can feel myself moving towards you.
My lips are dry, my mind has been absorbed.
All I can think of is the sweet release I would feel in your company.
Things are moving too fast. I am overwhelmed.
My head feels heavy, my body tired.
Sleep however is still no friend of mine.
But you are. You have always been.
People never thought we were good together,
But never have I felt more complete then when I was with you.
You were my solace, my light at the end of the tunnel.
With you my dark days became a warm day of spring.
I was alive after a decade of slumber.
Work had become decadent; there was neither motivation nor desire.
My only craving was you. You were my passion. My obsession.
With you by my side I could be anyone.
I was the competent worker, the better lover, the clown at a party,
The wonderful dancer/host, the articulate stranger, the hapless poet…
I was everything I wanted to be.
But I wasn’t the prodigal son, the faithful husband or the loyal friend.
Nor was I the attending Sunday mass or buying presents.
Never kept a promise or met a deadline that I recall.
I wasn’t the hero or even well kempt.
I was the man in the chair every Tuesday and Thursday
In the building two blocks south of the church.
I was a stranger in a room full of strangers.
Like a broken record that had lived longer then it should have.
I sat in a chair near the window …telling everyone my story.
Our story. You and me…and how we use to be.
How my life became worth living because of you.
How everything became bearable when you were around.
Things became colourful and it made me smile.
What I never saw were the faces around me. Tears and sadness.
I forgot the madness. You made me forget.
You hushed me asleep and dried my tears.
How could I leave you for them?
They, who never understood me as you did.
It was them who took me to that room and put me in that chair.
The chair I sat in every Tuesday and Thursday.
In the room near the window…just south of the church.
They made me talk and they talked to me too.
They read me letters and held my hand.
Touched my cheek and made me stand.
With every passing day I soon realized…
How alone I had been with you at my side.
It’s true not a day goes by when I don’t miss you.
I wish I could kiss you…taste your sweetness.
But your lips are no longer a sweet escape.
You were my love, one without a face.
I never held your hand or played with your hair.
Not once did I gaze into your eyes and stare.
Neither did you ever reply to my words…
Or wish me good luck on my first day of work.
You kept me at home and in bed all day long.
Thanks to you I lost my friends and my job.
I don’t think I could hate you…but I don’t think we can just be friends.
Hello my name is Bob; I am but an alcoholic in the end.