I imagine

Growing old
With a dead tongue.
Lacking of peace and convalesence.
I imagine holding a womans body,
Again
and again.
Never once giving me the feeling I search for.
Ill look them in the eye and watch their efforts never come close to my dreams.
Have I loved too much?
Im sick of searching, ive known the routine far too well than any man should.
Have I destroyed that drive and curiosity that pull most people into a relationship?
I constantly find no one is good enough for me anymore. For a man who lives only for love, this is one of the worst things he could ever face.
Alas, a life alone will be a crazy ride.
I feel I should create art for the enotions ill feel will be beyond most anything.