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Some desire an introduction.
Some have it secretly in the dark.
Some have it in the light of day.

Some live through me vicariously.
Some never come back and drift into the distance.
Some make music so sweet, that the deaf hear the symphony.

Some whisper to me their most intimate cravings.
Some tell me about lock jaw or other lives spent.
Some share with me about their filling experience.

Some speak a different tongue while in the motion.
Some listen to the cries by the penetrating addict.
Some come back for more and trace the warm skin.

Some leave unashamed but looking for others.
Some crawl to the knees of thirst dripping.
Some devour the hours that have past.

Some have never witnessed.
Some only have seen from afar.
Some dream in the individual's nightmare.

Some are close to my heart.
Some are in my heart.
Some are part of my heart.

 2003 David Greg Harth