Slides

I see them too
Pride of place on the mantlepiece of memory (so to speak)
Those memories, fond, make us look forward
But are we then disappointed?
I guess we need to talk (perhaps we don't:
maybe we need to sit in silence
a little more)

I am too distant, holding you at arm-length
I apologise, I don't mean to be.
and yes, let the middle
(sickly-sweet as it is)
last. Please.

I wish, not knowing what I'm wishing for:
perhaps variety in your kisses, mine.
We are left without conversation, is that it?
"contented" silence diminished.
What happened to the electricity? (did the bulb
blow?)
A missing puzzle piece?
What it is I'm afraid you don't feel the same-
that something is slipping away slowly, seeping.

And you can't possible know
How much I want it all to be perfect
How much I want
You, your own you.

Somehow these new slides fade slightly
(just round the edges- only I notice)
and we sit, enraptured, waiting for the show
not to end.
You say another one will start
after this pretence?
When and how, not that I could doubt you.

(If I tell you everything and shout
and scream
and let all my anger - there is no anger -
and bottled up emotion explode upon you
You will smile
And the slides will fade a little more
in the glare)

It is a failing on my part, I fear.
I hold up the walls against you.
Maybe the problem is that we talk too much
neither is comfortable
enough
To be with the other in perfect silence.

I'm digging for an answer
and trying to let you know how I feel
without knowing entirely how that is.
Your presence jolts me back to reality
I'm not always here, understand that.
I am reluctant to stay in this one dimension,
(I long to travel, make a new life as someone else,
an escape, like a drug addiction
I crave after dark)
constantly in denial of myself.

I will tell you in time
Don't worry my dear: I will slowly let you in.