Every night

I watch you,

Over and over,

On my TV screen.

Why do I do this

To myself?

Why must I

Torture myself

With reminders

Of what I’ll

Never have?

No,

Not just with you,

A movie star,

But with any man

From any walk

Of life.

I guess

There’s a part of me

That insists on hoping

That someday,

Someway,

Just like Elizabeth Barratt,

I’ll find someone

With whom to share

The ups and downs

Of  life.

I usually succeed

In squashing that part,

But every now and then,

In spite of

My best efforts,

It breaks forth

Like the tender and determined

Shoot of a plant

Erupting from the crack

In a boulder.

Ah well.

Maybe one day

I’ll be able

To allow it

To live.