~ Why? ~

Damn cat, fine single strands of her fur all over my keyboard.

So why can't I have you?

Why did you come into my life?

You appeared, wasn't it meant to be?

We collided, our worlds met.

Our paths crossed and here we are, still.

What's wrong with me? Nothing.

What's wrong with you? Nothing.

You, answered, me.

You replied, you paid attention.

I didn't feel pity for you.

I admired your work.

I really, really like you.

How come then?

I'll keep coming back here, you know that right?

Like a festering sore on my heart.

Obsessive, compulsive, disorder.

Law of nature, obsessive, compulsive, order.

Dedication, to detail.

Dedication. Passion. Confusion.

You didn't save me from anything.

You don't owe me anything.

I'm here for you.

I can, I will, help you.

I will be here, always here, when you want me.

I will be here, always here, when you need me.

Why can't you see that you really need me?

Why can't you see that you, really, really want me, too?

We are meant to be.

We will, be.

This isn't love.

I know love.

This isn't care.

I do care.

Stop resisting. Resistance is futile.

~ X ~

The inspiration for this piece came from:

Play Misty For Me with Clint Eastwood is a really good psycho thriller movie. And I have adored the idea of the female character and how he dealt with their situation. How can submission be, when one person is in total denial.
Dalton by CP Coulter is a great story. The whole scenario of Julian and his stalker, really grabbed at my heart strings. The whole issue of a crazed fan, a stalker toward someone famous, and those of us not so famous, is concerning.
Queer As Folk the Canadian version, excellent series. I came across a suggestion to write about the jealous pov for Brian and Michael.
Star Trek has a lot to answer for, with regards to vocabulary infiltration.
But what about us normal, healthy, admiring fans. We are often treated as lepers, they just want our money from buying their 'merchandise'. They don't really, care about us, as individuals. Or do they?
To them, we are a collective. Or are we?
And so I wrote this poem. I dedicate this to the 'W' who said that I'm lonely and wanting company. Doesn't everyone want company. And what the hell is lonely?
What I'm not though, is going to be his next 'affair'. I'm respectable. And I deserve as much love, care and respect as afforded. What I'm not, is a liar.
What I am – is very jealous, to the point that I hurt. But I trust love will come my way, when the good Lord allows it.
Rating: M. 16plus.
Ownership: I don't own Glee, Play Misty For Me, Dalton, Queer As Folk, or Star Trek.
But Blainey Bear and Kurt's Niece are mine. My two little cutie pies.

There is more to this poem, a chapter two. You'll find it over in fanfiction dot net. I have the same name there. I just don't think chapter two belongs here, in this world. And I've uploaded there, because that audience probably doesn't come anywhere near here. Review, or not, your choice. But how will I know what you'd like or not like. I can see you all reading my words. ciao take care, live long and prosper.