In my poem, "Towering, it is my answer to unrequited love. Sort of a thumb to the nose and an understand that the more important love, is the one you give out.

I had some thoughts about why making love or even the feelings, change things and friendships die. Or more accurately, killed of by one of them. There are some that feel that sex is a requirement for love, or maybe the expectations of what is expected the next day is unrealistically thought of. Either person, in this case. Or now, conditions place upon that friendship.

If I was to boast, you would think that I was holding up a peace sign, which really should have been a raised fist. I can't give up in my thoughts as anything else just isn't acceptable to me. Maybe I am pathetic, but I would rather walk on squeaky planks then fall through a rotten floor. This poem came to me in the dark of the night, or based on the fact that my days are split in two, recesses of my brain.

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