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September 15, 2003

In the dead of night, and the quiet of morning,
the enormous anticipation turns to pain.
I lie in bed, close and comfortable, it seems,
until I begin to let in sensations like this.
I drip from aches and I pant in a need
that is familiar, wanted, but terrible, indeed.
I've grown in age and my body is older,
but I don't feel any less, all of this,
than I did when I turned 15.
I'm impatient and somewhat trepidatious
for these four days to pass.
Each day that passes brings me closer to
either everything or nothing.