Ever since the fair where
we first met – when you
sat next to me, and even
smiled right there
next to me – I felt
nonetheless the vibrations
of resistance rattling
through my mind.

Like the pulling on a rope,
or the tugging hard in
hopes of breaking silence.

The forced hello, followed by
more relaxing telephone calls,
how it all so slowly eased into
something so familiar.

The valentines, the missing you,
and the phoning you again and again,
only to hear that distant but familiar
sound of your voice beating hard
in time with the echos of the past.

It’s hard to hear your voice now
through the thoughts and confusions
that float through my mind, and yet
I still try.

But in the end, it was all crushed in a
naked never-never land, that sat
shrouded with flowers and petals
of lust and want – as I reached out
toward your face with my sweaty hand,
my arms open with teardrops falling too.

(c) March, 1997, Steven H. Lee

This poem is also posted in The Writer's Corner at Epinions.com.