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Anticipation

Anticipation of becoming
what we’ve pretended to be.
Longing to feel the touch 
of the words that you’ve written...

Fantasy is fantastic,
Reality is real.
Like the realness of
your cock pounding deep

and the fantasy of 
your hand on my knee
or your tongue
on my lips.

You accuse me of being
whimsical, but I didn’t change
under the light of the real sun
when you ran away...

Is this silly?
It didn’t feel silly when
my head was beating against
the headboard or when

I sucked you dry.
But maybe it was silly 
and maybe there was
never any love.

And maybe there was too much
love and not enough 
distance to keep you 
comfortably away.

I’m sorry I’m not
your mother.  
But she would never
love you how I did.

And it is only in your fantasies
that you could do to her
the things
you did to me.

I was expecting reality
and you were expecting
a goddess, so who’s silly?  
And who is alone?

I was anticipating
you and instead
I got your dreams
of perfection.

And neither of us,
especially your limp
manhood, is even close
to erection.

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