"Confessions" 1974: poetry by Michael F. Nyiri

We read our highschool yearbooks carfully
We graduated turning our backs on
yesterdays

And every month or so I take those 
yearbooks off the shelf and read
those maudlin farewells and dusty
prophecies
And I look over my college yearbooks
with their clean white sheets
Their purity of existence

And then I met you and all this
seems as nothing anymore
And I look over poems I wrote
and all seems lost
And memories are bound by realisms
which eat into minds as do conqueror 
worms.
The day is short
The nights so empty
And I suddenly turned to say goodnight
And you weren't there.
And I realized the you I want 
is probably a dream - 
Nothing but a selfish dream.

(Honesty can hurt very deeply. The honesty of Terry's condition tonight hurt me and I didnt' want to show her although she certainly seems to be the only person who really knows me. I am only a first impression to her now, and I really don't know why, since I know I wasn't myself when I met her. So far Terry is the only person who has given me TRUTH. I asked a question and she didn't hesitate to answer. Funny but can I tell her what I belive to be the truth. Can I, who have mad so many pretenses about honesty, be totally honest with her? I would like to know if after three days of knowing her I can really feel how I think I feel.

I asked once, in a poem, a long time ago, if anyone could feel love and know it. It seemed to me, after bad experiences with both Kathy and Emma, that love was nonexistant between me and anybody. Because Terry took an interest (and she was even honest in saying "that must be some kind of ego trip") I feel this might be it. But am I rushing things in order to get out of this lonliness. Time will tell, I guess. And Terry, I hope we will find out soon. MFN