Tom talks to my young suitor

 

He think I’m weak and he think I’m fragile, yet
he cling to me harder than glue. I want to die
with him inside me, but I don’t know if I ever
will be able to live with him out in this world.
I dream about him every night and that must
be something, yes! But it is so much harder
to be awake and try to talk to him!

I must be free from all voices and opinions and ties and
everything you want to believe is reality, to go deep into
my silence, to hear what is my own voice and truth.

I didn’t dream about my young lover last night but
about a faded and grayish album cover from which
a worn Tom Waits talked rough to my guy. He said
raspy “Don’t you get you bore her to lose her, what’s
wrong with your male mind, young man?” I woke up
in a good mood with my mature body well-rested.

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This entry was posted in about writing, aging, authenticity, desirers, dreamers, dreaming, fatigue, life and love, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, relationships and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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