But Teacher, I Am Trying (My Best)

And so, what does it mean
to be beautiful?
I wonder.

I stand at the corner of hope
and wish that perhaps someday
I will find myself in greener pastures.
beautiful as ever, or if ever
I my hope is that
I should find my place
where I belong . . .
and when I do
I hope this place is graced
by golden sunsets that surpass
my wildest dreams.

And so
it goes.

I know

I am told the definition
of fascination
is defined as the ability to
fascinate
or to be somehow
and otherwise
irresistible.

I agree.

At the same time
I admit
your irresistibility
leaves me in a state of contempt
for the simple fact
that you are more
than irrespirable and more
you are more than you
realize

I swear.

I wonder how someone
can have a power like this
and never know
that they are both beautiful
and fascinating because
I am caught between two truths
which are both beautiful
and fascinating.

One truth
is this is you
the second truth
is that I am without you
at the moment

I am fascinated by the sunset
or how the golden glow
from the skies
seem to know
how to touch that unreachable
place in my heart.

I am fascinated by you, and yes,
you
of course, I am
because you touch
the same places
no matter where the sun goes.

I am fascinated by the thrill of the flesh
and how all of you consumes me
to the point where I am unaware
of anything else
when I am around you
—because when I am around you
I am unaware of flaws
or the cold streets in New York City
or how the sky forgets
to show itself on rainy days.

The ache in me is murderous
and yet, nothing about this is threatening
because I am far from a threat.
Yet my appetite for you
is overwhelming
and so,
without you
I am weak

I am lost and I am wondering
and waiting to find the next time
I have the chance
to bury myself in your flesh.

all I want
is to wake up
and for this dream
to come alive.

But, for now

I am fascinated by the sounds
of slight music
playing quietly in the darkness
and meanwhile
the moonlight above
is bright enough
to shine its blue lights
on the beaches in my dreams.

I am shy and unsure why
but I need to admit this.
I have never had
Sex on the beach.
Not even the drink. . .

But I dream.
I hope
I wish and I want
which is enough for me
to contemplate a plan,
to steal you away
and make the world
nonexistent for a while.

I am in love.
Yes, love
a thousand times
and yet, I am missing
the other half of you
(at the moment)
and waiting for the time
when, at last, I can reconnect
or touch you.

We can be
as if yesterday never happened
and tomorrow can seem like
we are nothing short of a plethora
of possibilities.

And so, to you
what does it mean
to be seen this way?
What does it mean to you
to know that you are
beautiful?

What does it mean
to be wanted, or to be needed
which I admit
I know I am too much
at times
and a bit over the top

But still, what does it mean
to you
to be seen this way?

How does it feel
to be seen as
beautiful as ever
fascinating, and sexy,
and erotic too, like the warm flicker
from candlelight, and the vision
I have of us
as two shadows
reflecting against the wall
of some faraway place.

This is you
to me.
Did you know?

I wonder . . .