Before everything is over I would like to make love to you
the same number of times as a gentleman knocking on a
door that will never open for him.
the same number of times a mirror fails to reflect the spirit
of a ruined man.
the same number of times a young woman
discovers in the middle of a noisy party
that she is alone.
I would like to make love to you like a man
leaning his face from the window of a passenger train to catch
one more look at the one woman he ever truly adored,
but now he must leave behind.
Like a circus performer looking up at a ceiling of trapeze rings, crazy lights and precarious high wires, knowing he will never climb that high.
Like a washed up prize fighter reaching for the canvas
because it is his only friend.
Like a bum reaching for a twenty dollar bill that is blowing across a busy boulevard.
Because I am doomed to live with you even when I am
without you – you with your incomplete shoulders.
You with your rainbow colored lips.
You with your empty hands. Your perfumed silence, your
perfect elegance. You, with the sunlight that leaks out of
your darkness and into my world.
– George Wallace