Cowardence Poem by Alicia Erickson

It is I, myself, that I percieve as a coward. cowardence is wat is me.I am nothing more then a lowly coward, who can't evan face her own mind let alone her feelings.
And what is it that I feel?
Anger, jealousy, longing, lust, dispair, fear and hunger.
Angry at myself for my actions in the past few days
Jealousy of a girl who kept wat was rightfully hers.
Lust for what I took from her, lust for more of what was taken from me.
Longing for what i will never have the same way again, longing for a loss which should not have happened in the first place.
Dispair at knowing the truth of this, dispair at my loss of Tony, Bonie, Sam, and Brittany, even though there is no closness between my-self and brittany I feel the loss of her still.
Fear of what I want but am too afriad to grab and hold as my own.
And i hunger the horror of love.
And what is it that is in my mind that i can not face?
Images, whispers and echoes.
What are these images, pray?
They are of me and him, draped in each others arms once more.
They are of being tenderly kissed, and dareingly caressed.
These whispers, what do they say?
They say, quite clearly in his voice 'Hold me, kiss me, have your way with me, i know you want to.'
They say, teaseingly 'Think, child, of his lips, so soft and full, caressing you again, tasting your salty skin once more.
Echoes, you say? Of what, dear child?
Even now, days later, i can still feel his palms, cool and dareing, glaze over my bare skin.
Echoes of the taste of sugared coffee, just under the tip of his tongue.
Echoes of our pleasure, which coursed it's way through my body.
With every breath I take, my mind echoes to me of my time with him.
Echoes of loseing myself in the sea of his big brown eyes, which decievingly make my thoughts create a world of sunshine and smiles.
Echoes of reality calling out to me, but I ignore such cries, For I have my own, drenched and enrobed in dispair.
For what i could not say, WILL not say, for such cries flow from a river deep with-in the ocean that is my seducable soul. Not even I have bin able to discouver its depth because of this cowardence, which deprives me of such a life full of sunshine and smiles.
It is I, my very own self, that I percieve as a coward. Cowardence is what is me. I am nothing more then a lowly coward, who FINALLY faced her own mind, and her feelings s well. Now there is one such thing that marks me a coward: handing this paragraph over to the person who needs to read it most