On and Off

On and Off

 

It's raining

last night the cafe was dark

you were standing,  I was tired.

What is this fear

it keeps me here writing.

 

Your strange face suddenly appears

in the mask of your unshed tears.

 

We cannot speak

but those eyes

they cry sorrow.

 

I am afraid

the thing that keeps me close also drives me away.

The paradox of attraction.

 

I lose myself in days of fruitless

yet euphoric fantasies.

Erotic and placid, together,

on the bench in my mind,

called love.

 

It grows larger every day

expectation.

Chips flake away from the varnished surface.

I try to spit shine the layers of illusion

simultaneously on and off.