what we look for is something deeper <br />than what we call love... if love is <br />the taste, we long for the substance. <br />we run afraid of the dark towards the <br />neon lights... but we long for chocolate, <br />for broth, for fruit, for just baked <br />bread. we hear the rumor of ecstasy, <br />but we settle for the numbness of not <br />being alone... for we fear ourselves, <br />and what is behind the door! we jump <br />into bed and pant against the cold, <br />never even getting close to the fire. <br />we settle for sex, we barter for sex, <br />using sex like a drug, mere children <br />sailing on a plastic globe. we are <br />afraid to touch, we take off our clothes, <br />but are afraid of being naked. afraid <br />of the stillness, we talk, we chatter... <br />like bones rattled by the wind, or the <br />window we latch. but the darkness calls, <br />the candle is lit. in the depths of <br />human, we long to be lovers!<br /><br />Eric Cockrell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lover-s-chronicles/
