Talk to me crazy, call me names....

A glass of wine, an empty space,
a longing heart in a fruitful phase.
A hunger for you being there.
Understanding the need to share.
A crappy poem, another sip
the need to move on, a need to stay,
an understanding of the way.

I gained more than I cared to lose.
I don't see clear what is meant to be,
but do see clearly who is me.
Of you I get only a glimpse at best,
a taste of presents, a grayed out past

Still the longing to be shared,
the need for you to know I cared,
the right to connect.
A lack of form, misplaced and mistaken.
Taken for granted more than I can take.
Sorry..., my mistake.

In a tong that is nor mine, nor is it yours
I babble and walk towards Buddha.
Lay my head in his lap and know,
no rest for you yet my love, move a little further still.
I hunger for me being you and you me,
maybe more for the lather rather than the first.

I thirst,
can feel the scratching at my heart, tugging at my soul,
I'm alone here and always was
though the company I kept was more than fine
I take my steps solo and slowly running
the red shoes fit me better day by day
dancing on my ego's grave.

The glass not half empty, the bottle not half full
time's ticking at the same speed, at a different hour.
none the less what is mine is yours and you have what's mine
I crave for it and don't know how to give it to us
what am I lacking here, is it your attention or is it mine.