Blood drips down

You don't know my birth date

I'm used to that in the sense that I have always known

known that my date of birth

has not been important enough for you to remember.

You continue to hurt me,

or maybe it's just as proper to say

I continue to allow you to hurt me.

I bite my tongue so hard that the warm blood

the blood drips down my neck.

I wipe it away with my shaking hands

only to be sure that you don't see my open wounds.

I will continue to be me.

I will continue to be kind

even to you

who maybe see's that word as a sign of weakness

Or maybe we are just kind to different people you and I

or in different ways.

I will swallow my blood and hold onto the taste

for in a few days

when you have gone back to your own shelter

well it will be then that I
once again
taste the salt of my tears.

to follow a scent........

And as I look back I can see how I fell into the arms of dreams and wishes that were to never come true.

The pain of not knowing

of searching for the scent that would never be right.

To seek that embrace that warms the soul and lets you know that there is at least one person in this world who truly understands, who knows, who shares the pain with you.

For that someone who shares your soul.

Reaching out blindly for a fleeting glimpse of that love

of that knowing touch.

Reaching for anyone who can offer a chance at that one feeling

A true embrace so filled with love that you feel like you might suffocate.

Instead only to continue to float through the days wishing to grasp the clouds that are too far out of reach.

For just one chance to feel the embrace and lose myself in your scent,

rather then wander my days and nights alone pretending to understand that love.