From: jeff@tct.com (Jeff Witzer)
Subject: Clearing the attic...
Date: Wed, 15 Apr 1992 22:11:58 GMT
Distribution: usa
Organization: TC Telemanagement, Clearwater, FL

During a recent move, I found a box of "writings" I did a while back -
letters never sent, written more to understand my own feelings than to 
express them to others.  I'm not sure why I'm presenting them here (I 
don't think they're that good) but I'd like to hear your reactions.  
Maybe I'll strike a chord...

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    There she was, ...finally.  The early evening sun suddenly illuminating
her path as she walked through the front door.  Back-lit as she was, it was
difficult, at first, to see her face, but he knew it was her the minute he
looked up from the green felt and the shot he had been engineering.  He
rose slowly, lowering the cue from its carefully situated position, and 
watched the hanging cloud of cigarette smoke part in front of her and the 
door ease close behind, slicing off the beam of light from outside.  He had
been there an hour, waiting, trying to keep himself interested in the 
solitaire game of nine-ball on the table before him, hoping she'd show.  Now
she had, and he didn't know what to do.  The cold, empty feeling of abrupt
nervousness that winded him when he first saw her was slowly dissipating and 
he could breath again.  The pool hall seemed smaller to him now, more 
comfortable than it had a moment ago.

    There she was, greeting the regulars at the bar as she swiftly moved
past, so close he could feel her breeze and enjoy her unperfumed, natural
scent.  He paused, eyes closed, momentarily pleased with thoughts of her,
until he remembered how utterly unattainable the realization of those 
thoughts were.  His eyes opened quickly, then looked down.  Self-dejected,
he returned to his game as she disappeared behind the bar.

    There she was, walking by again, unaware of his presence or how aware
he was of her.  He tried to forget about her and get back to his game, but
the game was not the reason he was there.  On her third or fourth time by
he looked to her again, this time she saw him, smiled, and offered a laconic
wave.  He welled, pleased and proud, warm and effervescent.  He had no 
response except an embarrassed grin that he couldn't remove, so he quickly
turned back to the game.  She moved on, but his smile lasted for minutes.
She makes him feel good, but she scares the hell out of him.  She must know
the powers she holds.  In the past he had found the means to talk to her,
but the more he discovered how wonderful she was, the more out of place and
bothersome he felt.  He didn't want to keep her from more important things.
He longs to take her aside and learn her, but he knows he doesn't deserve
the time.  The dejection moves back in, this time to stay, unless she 
returns to bestow happiness upon him again.  He feels so disarmed, so
helpless, ...so frustrated.

    There she was, so beautiful:  long brown hair that swings behind her in
a pony tail, swaying in perfect anti-cadence with her adorable rear end; a
pretty, pretty face that he just can't see enough of; a smile that warms
him through; eyes meant to fall into for hours; and an innocent confidence
that shows she knows what she's doing, but without insolence.  He knows he
can never warrant someone like that, so he quietly leaves until he again
feels the need to see her, to take the chance that maybe today will be the
day they connect, the day he can muster enough courage to ask permission to
become someone she knows.

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Firelight on a rainy night,
  Hungry lovers in the mood.
On the floor, who could ask for more
  Than dinner in the nude?
  
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"DAYDREAMING"

She haunts his mind
With an unwitting, inspired replica
Of her angelic face and form

A beautiful image, thieving away his concentration

Like the warm, sweet aroma
Of bread baking on a lazy Sunday afternoon
It mingles in the roots of his consiousness,
Building slowly,
Becoming perceptable, noticed, and noted

Then, once recognized, it becomes irrepressable,
Engrossing his whole attention.

Freed from his painfully drab world
He becomes lost in the brightness of this vision

He dwells on the sight his subconcious has made from his memory
For he can never see enough of her honest beauty
And he knows he will never deserve to be the intended recipient
Of her welcome gaze,
Of her exquisite smile,
Of her sultry essence

So he steals glimpses of her,
Enhancing and refreshing his memory from which the image is cast
For with each view of her magnificence
The copy in his mind more closely resembles the origional,
Intensifying its effect on him,
Compelling him to again cast his eyes upon her...

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"Dilemma of the Ugly Man"

I'm the bellman, Quasimodo,
in another time and place,
A self-tormanted heart of gold
captive to a hideous face.

Capable of lasting love,
but nary given chance.
I'm damned to only dreaming of
creating real romance.

Of giving to a woman
anything she'd want to take,
Of finally satiating
my tenacious, lonely ache.

Of providing her with comforts
and keeping her from harm,
Of enveloping each other
to make us one, and warm...

In this hell-hole we call life,
in an attempt to muddle through,
Things become more dismal knowing
i'll never get through to you.

A warmth exists around you,
an intimate, nurturing glow,
An honesty and passion
i expect i'll never know.

Yet, i cannot clear my mind of you,
your vision's much too strong,
You diffuse throughout my brain...
a distracting, wisping song.

But since i so admire you,
and quest for you the best,
I know that i should step aside
so you can scout the rest.

Every night i pine for strength
to overcome my plight
And let you know i think of you
in the quiet of the night.

I need the strength to sit with you
and say what's on my mind,
But every time i read my thoughts
around you i go blind.

I lose all concentration,
and lack the words to say,
The only thought i understand
is "try to run away".

I know it hurts to look at me,
the view's too grim, i'm sure,
But why can't someone look inside
and see i'm so much more?

You're such a lovely vision,
i like that, i can't lie,
But i also see your inner glow
beaming from inside.

That's the beauty i recall
to get me through the day,
The beauty that closed eyes can see
and cannot fade away.

I know you do not want me,
you've made that painfully clear,
And since your needs are paramount,
i swear i won't come near.

The ugly man's dilema,
(since the clock's about to chime)
Is the more fond i become of you
the less i'm worth your time.

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I wish I had the chance to tell her friends
How I feel about her
For they would surely see
How sincere I was.

I wish one of them would ask me
"What does she mean to you?"
No matter how casually asked,
No matter where or when.

I would innocently smile,
And look down,
Gathering my thoughts,
Then look them straight in the eyes and say...

I like her.
She makes me feel happy.
She makes me feel comfortable.
She makes me feel welcome.

I like her friends.
I have yet to meet one that I thought
Was not a sincere person.
That says a lot about her.

I admire her.
She has the qualities I respect most:
Intelligence, honesty, integrity, a sense of self,
And she is mature beyond her years.

I love her.
She makes me feel strong and confident.
She makes me feel weak and vulnerable.
She makes me want to be around her.

I am in love with her.
She is the most important thing in my life.
I have this overwhelming desire to give of myself to her.
I need to be needed by her.

She has the perfect personality.
She is tough,
She stands up for herself,
But she can be very tender, understanding, and loving.

I am attracted to her, physically.
She has the most warm, beautiful eyes,
And gorgeous mouth.
And she is so soft.

I want her.
I love the way she feels.
I love the way she tastes, all over.
I love the way she reacts to my touch.

She feels solid in my arms.
I feel safe and protected.
I feel strong and protecting.
I have this great feeling of relief when I hold her.

I need her.
I would give anything to wake up and feel her there,
Still asleep,
Content.

She confuses me.
I try to make contact, carefully, and she resists.
I back off to get out of her way, and she complains.
I think of her every day, but can't get through to her.

I miss her.
I try to match the time I get home to hers,
Only to find her not there - frustration,
Or to see her but she doesn't see me.

I love to watch her.
Just watch her,
From my window.
She moves well, solidly.

I want her here.
Someone to confide in,
Someone to cry to,
Someone to come home to.

I want to give her everything.
She hasn't had an easy life, or rich boyfriends.
I try to treat her like she deserves,
and give her the things she'd never get otherwise.

She has that special something.
She has what I want, she IS wat I want.
She used to want me, I could tell.
I feel like such a fool...so confused.

Please tell me what to do...

At which point her friend,
Knowing how she felt about me,
Would put me out of my misery,
...Either way.

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Love is not enjoying someone's company,
It is craving it.

Love is not missing someone when absent,
It is seeking them.

Love is not comfortable,
It is excruciating.

Love is not confidence,
It is trepidation.

Love is not pleasent,
It is essential...and it is missing.

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"Birds Of A Feather"

With something new
  There's always fear,
And the chance of losing
  Someone dear.

But without risk
  There's no reward,
And the timid bird
  Has never soared

Or witnessed all
  That he could see
While safely perched
  In his home tree.

There's a world out there!
  So much to see,
To be shared by friends
  Like you and me.   
	       
A wonderful thing
  'Bout being friends
Is you don't have to set
  Where friendship ends.

For friendship is
  A type of love,
Not empassioned Eagle,
  Rather, tender Dove.

And even doves,
 In desperate hours,
Can reach inside
 For Eagle's powers.

Something new
  Has come along
To make this dove
  Cry Eagle's song

And inspired me 
  To take my affection
And set it in
  A new direction,

To launch this dove
  Into the air
And let if fly
  Where eagles dare.

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Well, there it is folks - my most heartfelt feelings of the past laid out
before your eyes.  I think I just had to read these again (as I should 
every so often) and maybe share them with others.  If for nothing else, 
you can flame me for my sappiness...after all, I've never been flamed 
before.