Wanting

Want and I

know each other intimately

as two lovers.

The days of my childhood

are familiar to her tangles

As the desperation that

melts together hunger and lust

the need of both desire

and survival in a tango of

all the things we'd wished

we had forgotten.

If only Want

was as easy to divorce

as a spouse.

If I could just split down

the middle the cold and

fear and the Heat and joy

that we've shared in the years

of our youth, our pursuit

sometimes foolish and

yet sometimes more of the

order of endurance.

Without her-

Want- there'd be no need

to endure.

I could fade away without

the regrets of giving away

dreams, or the gloom of

hopeless inevitability. I

Know her as a lover in

Sadness and in Dawning

the passion of ambition

and the terror of his words.

(I can't help but

think without her, his words

would have slipped

Aside as water

on oil instead of scarring to

find me wanting.)