Cold tea

  It's been raining again. I need to get some milk later, there won't be any for my next cup. Oh, church soon, do they understand, I should get changed, I mean I shouldn't have read, but then again.

They don't really think about what it really is that they ask us to give up.

  It's all right for them, how human they are with their human condition. Lonely, not strong, but your need for support, your ability to share that weakness with someone else, it isn't just okay, it is celebrated. All of us are so proud, so pleased for you. 

  Why is it so amiable, saintly, for me to seek a life of singleness, of solitude, to 'Take my strength from the church and confide only in god'?  My watch is loud, ticking away, and it's getting darker. They don't think about what is is they are asking you to give up. 

The general church. Some of them know. That breaks my heart more.

  It's not sex, all right, yeah, that is a part of it. It's the only part they ever talk about, but, just think.

Never sharing a bed. 

A picnic.

A film. 

Never living with someone, like that. 

Never saying 'I love you.' like that. 

Never crying. 

Like that. 

  Never order a table for two or make breakfast in bed or fighting, like that.

Never have some one who needs just you, in their darkest moments, to cry and scream and hit. Never having someone to hold you when you feel, like that.

  I want to stand, in that painting, the one of a man on top of a mountain, in the wind, and the snow. I want that. Imagine, never having your heart broken. 

It sounds good, but all you are left with is a feeling of  inferiority. A child, being told  'It isn't good for you anyway, really, you're better off without. It would be more mature to refuse.'

  Maybe they are right, but it's not how people work.

We long for a rock to cling to as the sea buffets us back and forth, all we can grasp, is each other. We are still thrown about, submerged in the salt water, but isn't it still better? 

To try desperately to hold on for as long as you can?

I should really get ready, I still have those letters to send. I ache, shouldn't have danced so hard, and what did I have for breakfast? I should eat, was that my phone? 

  Oh, I've let my tea go cold again.

Author's Note

An edited down version of the stream of consciousness project. It might be getting there. It also might definitely be better 'performed'. Mmmmm I don't know if I should cut it down even more. There are some good parts I could take out but, then I think I don't want to loose the overall idea and make it into a generic 'longing for love' type poem.