Tell Me What It's Like...

by G!

Tell me what it's like to be in love;
I'll tell you what it's like get a taste of love
And then have the feeling dissolve away.

Tell me what it's like to love another;
I'll tell you what it's like to love yourself.

Tell me how far you want to go;
I'll tell you about the oath of celibacy I swore
To a God you don't believe in.

Tell me what's it like to experience change;
I'll tell you what it's like to be resistant to change.

Tell me about how you love someone;
I'll tell you about how I love something.
(The thing I'm talking about is music.)

Tell me what it's like to want more;
I'll tell you what it's like to have enough.

Tell me how you miss someone when they're absent;
I'll tell you how I, for the most part,
Just thinks about something else instead.

Tell me what it's like to feel;
I'll tell you what it's like to want to feel.

Tell me I'm cold, passionless, insensitive.
Because for the most part, I still am.

Longing For You

by G!

If what has been said is true
That the world takes away from us
The things we love most
The longer we are in it,
Then perhaps my perpetual
Longing for you is not so unusual
After all.

I wish to profess my love
For you, or I believe I should.
I believe we are destined for
Each other, or it's just the nice thought
Of an inner romantic whose
Heart is shy and recluse and maybe
Even cold.

Why do I deny the words I want
To say to you? Why am I merely
Aware of your presence? Why
Do I merely acknowledge it, yet
Hold myself back from you. Why
Would I rather long for you than be
With you?

This longing I feel manifests itself
In awesome feelings of euphoria
And exuberance, and suddenly I
Feel, that beauty admired is not
Enough, and I must embrace it,
Hold it, possess it. Of course, that's
Wishful thinking.

The world is made more beautiful
By your existence; it is comfort
To know that there is light in
Life, and the darkness has not
Overcome it. I have no excuse, but
That the world keeps you
From me.

I do not care for the physical
Touch of love. That is but a passing
Fancy which reaches climax in an
Instant, and is felt no more, and
Though pleasurable, it is not substantial
To the bloated individual who seeks the
'Higher' you.

I procrastinate, and stall, and do
Everything I can to make you
Insignificant. Perhaps it is my
Tragic flaw. Perhaps the world has
Corrupted me, and I no longer
Want you; I just want to long
For you.

I look to any places for
What I love most,
In the end though, I'll
Only find what I need (and want)
In you.

I've realized that,
And with realization,
I hope actualization is
Soon to follow.