August 29th, 2004

The man who wasn't there

I dreamed of our second kiss, after I dreamed of the first.
I imagined how your lips would move, and how you'd feed my thirst.
My mind was consumed by possible images of your arms wrapped around me tight.
I knew that if I closed my eyes, I could imagine the shot, just right.
In the middle of the night I used to awaken to a scare,
I'd be calling out for a man, a man who wasn't there.
I dreamed of how we'd dance the tango infront of couples all around
I knew that once we found our step, our love would be the only sound.
I fantasized about the first time we'd make love, candles lit, silk bed sheets
I was sure the day would come, when holding hands would prove obsolete.
And there were times I wish I could have shared
that I was dreaming of a man, a man who wasn't there.
And the poems you would write me, I'd remember those so well
I knew that deep inside, that was the reason why "i fell"
I imagined spending birthdays and holidays, each side by side
Never to forget our journey, our long bumpy ride.
And everyone would ask me who he was, to share
and I would never admit, I was describing the man that wasn't there.