In the desert i have lived in

for the past year or so

i have sustained myself on vague memories and fleeting impressions apon my skin of what once was.

the fact is, the facts did not matter. Who it ws that had touched me and who it was that looked apon me.

The feeling of us, the feelig of whispers the feeling of touch of tenderness, those were fleeting, things i could vaguely recall and things i had not received in sincerity in a long long time.

Sometimes i think that no one else understands that.

But it doesnt matter now

an oasis, a temporary mirage a moment has crossed my path (or did i cross it) and if elt an arm around me, i felt eyes on my skin, eyes not in disdain, eyes not in scorn, eyes that thought that i, after all my wanderings and dehydration i was still . . . . something. Eyes that saw what i did not, what no one had seen in me in a long long time.

and i was touched and held close and . . . i think it scared me, just a bit, no alot, and it excited me and made me feel happier tha i have felt in a long time. I haven't felt truly happy in a long time.

and if that is all that comes of it, one night where i was special one night where i was happy, then that is enough. If his eyes turn cold, if the mirage goes away, dwindling back into the heat and the sand of nothing.

if that is all that coems of it, if it was fleeting and momentary then i will be sad, i will return to dying but . . . it will be enough. to have drank the sane beleive it was water, i wotn regret it, not for a second