When we’re not talking
I fill that void
With our other conversations
It is as though
Ever since knowing you
Silence almost never visits
I am never alone
I may be the
Only person here physically
But like a medium
I hear your voice
Comforting reminding missing me
The love for yourself
Must always come first
You cannot give away
Something you don’t own
Try not to seek
Someone else to provide
That which you choose
Not to find yourself
For once they remove
It the void which
Was once something small
Has now become vast
Incapable of being quenched
Fill your cup first
And only from there
Can you serve others
Our friendship has changed
Once comforting like granola
Bathed in steamed milk
Then deep like rich
Dark soil in which
We planted our delicate
Dreams to the cotton
Candy of our crush
To the tentative touch
Of curious fingers entwined
Finally to storms passion
Drenching everything in the
Rain of desires hunger
And finally back to
The quiet beginning wondering
Just what exactly happened
Like waking from dreams
Confusion full of innocent
Chagrin and cautious glances
Asking where to now
Sometimes enough is enough
While not absolutely perfect
Nearly is better than
Nothing so I thought
Yet some things close
Are better than sublime
Proximity does offer experience
Always better than dreams
Tactile tangibility weighs heavier
Than wispy fleeting fantasy
But with the reality
Of something been had
Comes with it responsibility
For having achieved such
Ideals are often free
Whereas people are not
As I lay here
Moving my hand slowly
Following the suns path
As it creeps quietly
From foot to calf
And up your thigh
To the ribbed cliffs
And your alpine chest
Past your mouths pool
Finally on your eyes
Giving my morning lips
Their own landing pad
Good sunrise my sweet
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 