One day, out of this century. I've waited and you pick this one day to come home. I always wanted, always waited for you to say my work was good and true but you never would. And so on this day I gave you up and on this day you returned. You returned to say to me all the things I wanted you to say, but never had the courage to ask to hear. And to tell you the truth, I don't think you were brave enough to say them until now. Are you here tonight because of some stupid e-mail I sent you, hoping maybe you'd have the courage to break my stupid, fucking heart? Because I've been waiting to ask you. I've been crawling inside, burning with this intensity I didn't know I had. Do you love me? Do you? Could you? Do you love me you son of a bitch? Are you even conscious as to what love is? I'm not sure why I still love, why I'd bleed my heart dry for you. We don't even talk anymore. I hardly know who you are. Maybe in some other lifetime, maybe if I was someone else. But even then I'm not sure you could appreciate me. I don't know if we can really bridge the gap we seem to have. I guess I just miss you. That irresistable smile and the way you would scare me by threatening to make my walls bleed. I want to cry; I want to break something. I want to tell the entire world that I love you. But I'm too selfish. I'll hold back. I'll pretend I don't understand why I continue to play those stupid games with you. It's cat and mouse, but who is whom? I miss you and I hate all this anger and lonliness. I want to hold you again, just for a night. I would like to hold you and kiss you and pretend that you're mine. Even if it's all a lie. Even if I can't have you, could you let me believe it? Could you pretend to be mine for just one night, just one breath of time? Maybe you'd like it and want to stay. Or maybe you won't and you'll continue on your way unhindered by my body, my mind, my soul. And maybe someday I'll be brave enough to tell you this.
C. LaFay 3-12-02