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I'm here


I’m here

I’m here as I wait for you

You’ve never arrived

I age away

Life eroding slowly away

I’m here

Temporal being that I am

Silence has engulfed me

Your absence frightens me

And I’m here

Aching as tears run down my soul

As it oozes through my skin

Will I ever win?

How could I missed your never arrival

And yet I still yearn for the fifteen year old boy’s dream

I want to lick your skin this is my secret sin.

I’m here

Stillness envelopes me with a scary reality

The world I see dying is like the world from deep within

At times I see no way out

Trapped like a helpless animal

In silent death I slip slowly away

Lover, you have not arrived

Lover, the scar remains deep inside

Lover, at night silently I cry

Lover, I am withering, withering away deep inside

Lover, one day I may never love

Lover, your absence is a reminder of what I am beginning not being able to recall

 

Lover, from dreaming big, now I dream small.

Lover, as I age I lose my mind

Lover, I see you have never arrived

You remain a dream, a vision deep in my mind

Silly thoughts as a fifteen year old still dreaming at fifty three years old.

And Lover I’m here

And yet, you have not arrived.

Visions slipping like water through a basket

Slowly it dies and you have not arrived

And my dream at fifteen slowly slides

Away.

 

I’m here…

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Lucian A. Sperta

Published Author and Poet over 25 books in paper back and digital books Selected American Library Association 2015 Model Citizen 2013 Writer of the Month Meridan 1989 American Society of Authors Composers and Publishers since 1994 #8 Hot Top 100 Hot New Release in Poetry #1 Best in Photo Essay Amazon.com Some people think I expose myself too much in what I say in my poems, I don't consider myself a poet as much as I feel I am a story teller, how can one write subjected to other peoples point of view on how I write, what I write, and how I express myself. This is my journey and self expression is how I choose to deal with it; words, writing has been the outlet where I control without fear, without shame, the pen and paper will never betray you. A poet is one, I believe, can take a surgical scalpel to the soul and let it bleed what it truly feels.....

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