When she forgives me...

She forgives my late night insanities... my tormented nights trying to charm and seduce the words that taunt my simple mind... She forgives my unexpected trips to unnamed cities to meet with clients without faces who have more money than social graces... but they pay well... so she forgives my last minute phone calls to the other side of the world to insure that there is a place to fall back to when the first world collapses... She forgives the photos and files of beautiful women piled on my desk from photographers, and film makers and producers who aren’t really too sure of what it is they want to do or how to do it... She forgives the women from my past... the ones from long ago that have not forgiven me for the man I used to be... that do not know a God damn thing about who I am today... and she lets them treat me like the garbage I used to be... She forgives my need for poetry... for the words I never said... to the women I wish had stayed a little longer in my bed... she forgives my lack of possessions and knows why I travel as light as I can - physically and spiritually... because mentally... I’m carrying a heavy load... she forgives my need for beauty... my need to hold certain objects and the hours I must spend reading the same passages and scrutinizing the details of certain works of art... she knows the more I love the things I see... the more I will see the things I love... and this beauty will be transformed into the love we make... so... she forgives my need for beauty... but she does not forgive the kisses I steal without giving back... the look of lust I drown her in that leads nowhere when I am called away too often... she does not forgive the mornings I leave her side before she rises without saying good-bye... she does not forgive... my lack of interest in her days... the hours she spends without me... she does not forgive my lack of pity for those who will not take advantage of the opportunities life offers... she does not forgive my nonchalant attitude towards the day before me... she thinks my philosophies strange... and worries too much about tomorrow... She forgives my need to brood over cities I may never see again... but she does not forgive the visions of those cities I use to seduce her with... She forgives my melancholy seductions... and my operatic demonstrations of the affection I have for her... but she does not forgive the fact that I will not let her completely into my world... She does not forgive the secrets that I keep... and the kisses I hold back... the love I hide from her and the life I will not be able to give her... She forgives me for the moments I do not think of her... but she does not forgive the nights I do not take care of her... the nights I don’t call to make sure she ate well and let her vent her troubles out on me... She forgives me for spoiling her with the good things I do for her... but she does not forgive the nights I am not there to cook for her, and dance with her, and read to her... after I have made love to her... the nights I am not there to comfort her and lay in silence with her... and when I have to... even lie to her...