than you

I have written many things

in my life,

thought many thoughts,

fantasized many fantasies,

dreamed many dreams;

but none of them

are more important

than you;

I have written about

imaginary lovers and

foolish ideas,

all of which seemed

so important,

but were nothing,

nothing at all,

compared to the love

that we share,

you are the reality

which has kept me

holding on (to this life),

for more years

than I can remember,

yours is the touch

I long to feel,

the voice

I long to hear,

at the end of the day

when nothing seems real,

when nothing is true,

as all the thoughts and ideas

go drifting away like smoke

from a burning campfire;

you are the part of me

I can never let go,

no matter how hard

this need to destroy

everything that I touch

has tried;

there is no one

I would rather be with

than you.

.

.