what I have yet to have...

I dream, softly sometimes...sometimes painfuly hard.

I dream of the moments when I can lose myself in someones touch, in there breath...in thier scent. When is it my turn to get lost in the sound and rhythm of a beating heart?

The dreams come...never when I'm sleeping...never when I'm standing still.
It is dark when they come, when the phatom visits me.
He has no face,
no body,
no skin,
no voice...

But, I feel him there.
Outside my mind, yet not...contained inside...contained and
forever yearning for release.
Waiting for me to touch him...
I try, but all I touch is air.
Waiting for me to kiss him..
but his lips are never there.
I never ment to cage him,
he was trapped by his own will.

I read the stories,
I hear the stories..
I see the stories..
unfold.
For other people.
The colminating breath, the intense heat,
the throbing...the need.
The sweat, so sweet and salty.
They forget who they are, what they are, who is who and what is what.
And what more, they don't care.
Love is stopping time and speeding it up all at the same time.
Confusion is blurred by passion, need, surealisism, hope, happiness.
All thought is abliturated in an explotion so intense,
that if the energy where ever harnessed
it would be more powerful than a hundred suns.

Minds melt, and bodies merg as one,
for one
single
second...
Your soul is not alone.

I am a watcher,
I watch these moments in my mind and yearn for them in my heart.
I am lucky...I see what you can not and know what you could never comprehend.
But you are luckier then I...you feel them...I can't.
Because as a watcher I can never do what you do.
Stop watching.
I can't close my eyes.
not even for one second.
I can't be selfish for a moment so that I can lose myself in the feeling of it all.
I am caught in a trap.
The trap of the observer.
I watch,
I am never apart of it.

So my phantom and I are one in the same,
He is me,
I am him.
Equals in our cage.
The day someone releases us...

I wait impaitently to escape my captivity.