Crying

By: Pat Adams

Crying so softly under a sunset so far away. And just how far is this distance? It doesn't matter at all. Time has little meaning, distance even less. I could be light years for all I know, or care. All the distance does is separate me from her. Once I get far enough away that I can not see her at my leisure it doesn't matter how much farther I get. It's all the same. I can't see her, I can't be near her, I can't touch her. Time means only slightly more. Each passing second brings me closer to the moment that I might finally see her again, that's true, but it also increases the chances she might find someone that would gratify her in the now, increases the chances that I might succumb to the weakness I feel in loneliness. I love her, that much I am sure, but does absence really make the heart grow fonder? I would love to think so, I really would, but I don't think I can believe that. With all of my past experiences, absence does everything but make the heart grow fonder. The distance just hurts, a pain palpable but untouchable, remedies unavailable. I want to be with her, but with the lengthening absence, who can say how things will pan out? And is it really worth it in the end if things do not turn out how I want them to so badly? I want her, mind body and soul, right now. I want her presence to sooth all of my emotional aches and pains. But what am I trying to say? I do not want to leave her. I do not want to be unfaithful. What she does is her own business, and I just want her to be happy, but what about me? I can not bear the thought of hurting her in any way, but is it all in vain? Am I just pretending that the desires and goals of this mass of humanity that we call society really matter? She will get over it if I fuck up... but will I? I think not. I think one act of transgression will weigh so heavily on my psyche and heart that I will be destroyed. I feel the jealousy of everyone that I know is around her. Men much better then I surround her, I entertain no delusions about this, and I would not hold it against her if she were to fail prey to the needs of the body. Her mind and heart may be strong, but the flesh is so weak, so susceptible to the carnal desires.

Hmmm... I have failed to say what I mean... I know this... All my literary musing has failed. What is it about her that renders me so helpless? I can't explain it, but I know that I enjoy it.

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