you're sitting there, your face i cantsee


you've got your eyes closed, not looking at me


words wont come, gestures must do


so i lean over gently and kiss you on the cheek





you appear startled, like u dont know whose there


and you realise, u dont care


i could get angry, but whose to blame but myself?





all i can do is sit back and scratch


you look at me, as if, what the hells that


but from the brief bit of intimacy


it eases my mind to rerturn to normalacy





the strangeness of love, is eclipsed by the pain


moments of awkardness, again and again


and after settling down after fifty odd years


wondering was it just worth all those tears...


.....i dont know.





i wrote that last night so theres tinkering to be done with it, but just wondering what eskimos think of it