writing

writing has seemed to be my forte up until now. i was asked to write for a magazine... of course this guy read my poetry and thought i could do prose just as well. i find that its hard for me to write about health without making it seem like a poem in essay form. so i've been battling with it for the past 2 days. and you can imagine he wants it by monday......

desire.. what do i....

i thought today about what i want and compared it to what i really want
i don't want what i want

lets say today
when i smiled at my lover and took in a long drag of his scent
allowed his being to excite mine
allowed this man to steal sense from my nerves and craze up my entire chemistry
i found that this......

i don't want even though i want it so

so what do i want?
the simple niceties of love?
the meaning of the purposes we invent for ourselves
the joys of the simple things we forget
to see what men rarely glance at twice and discover the glory of a cowering soul
hidden in the persona of an independent strong being whos eems to have no sweet tooth
no heart to ache
one who seems too strong to be so

living is simple

now i sit across from one who desires me
not in selfish ambition but truly, i dare say madly and deeply
and though i wouldn't say it aloud
i want
i want
i want