| By Diggs Sexton © 10/8/1997 I was in love, . . . and I was sure . . . . . . you felt the same way too. Because you said . . . my silly ways . . . kept you from feeling blue. I loved you more . . . than my heart . . . . . . could contain. But I . . . couldn't fan . . . your embers . . . . . . into a flame. No, you couldn't see . . . just how I felt . . . when you said . . . you want to go separate ways. But deep inside, although I denied... I was in love, . . . but you were gone, . . . . . . you met another guy. Were you in love, . . . or was it just . . . . . . someone you told a lie? You saw me look . . . when you kissed . . . . . . with desire. But I . . . couldn't stop . . . your embers . . . . . . from causing fire. No, you couldn't see . . . just how I felt . . . as you walked . . . by me, with him hand in hand. But deep inside, I tried hard to hide... I was in love, . . . I was alone. . . . . . . You went your separate way. Because you said . . . my silly ways . . . . . . had left you asking why. I loved you more . . . than my heart . . . . . . could contain. But I . . . couldn't fan . . . your embers . . . . . . into a flame. No, you couldn't see . . . just how I felt . . . when you said . . . you want to go separate ways. But deep inside, in my heart I cried... for you |
| By Diggs Sexton © 9/22/1998 I. Tunnel vision focused- Muted desires- I stutter my number, . . . hope you call. Eight o'clock, nine o'clock, ten- You'll call tomorrow. II. I look into your eyes, . . . bright, black, . . . a deep well, . . . soft luminescence reflects . . . from it's pool. You vent and I am your sponge. The words saturate. I watch the words form, . . . soft, pleasant- Words I want to kiss. Words articulating gesture. Soft gesture- Each delicate digit performing. The tone of your gestures, . . . gentle, . . . likened to the tone of your flesh . . . from palm to backhand. III. I see you in the shadows. Silhouette of beauty- I don't have permission to kiss you. I don't have permission to touch you. |
| by Diggs Sexton © 10/6/1998 The mountain stood, unclimbable, a short coming. The desert, wanting, knew unmistakable beauty. An attempt would be disaster. A fall would tear the soul, shatter the mind, the heart. Peaks of ice, hard as rock, resisted thaw. The desert was drawn, waiting for moisture to bring salvation. |