By Shoghi Art		Reading Poetry... by Joseph Immel (Listen) Some days I get angry, when I read the poetry I wrote about you, it is a mistake to read. And I have taken pictures, but none of them with your face, so I have to remember how beautiful you are, my eyes can still touch your eyes, your lips, your skin, my ears still listen to your voice; And I can’t even blame God for having only one night with you, only for my suffering that came later, and my foolish thoughts, and that crazy, oppressive, desire. My heart becomes weak, I was so excited when you visited me, I fell in love with you again instantly, and I tried to blame everyone else but you for leaving me again. I hate this letter, and also the small book you gave to me; writing to you makes my heart tired, punishing myself with missing you is a helpless, useless feeling, but I’m drinking big mouthfuls of it. Sometimes I stare at the poetry Like a dangerous drug. I know I shouldn’t read it. But I did. And so clearly the feeling comes. So fresh you come back to me, And there is no relief, Even this email is worthless to me: I can’t reach you.