Christmas eve 2012: dark nights: More recycled poetry and the swimmer

So this one needed to be re-written to address change circumstance.  And just to make it artsy, interspersed is another poem.  This was originally written 27 days after I began drinking coffee.  In the edits, I am back to Christmas Eve 2012 when the theory was originally coming together.

I was only 3 days to the halfway point (60 days without coffee). 11 days till the mayan calendar winds down (this millinea anyway).  For those of you keeping track, I have 20 pages left to edit in the book.  Then I decide if I want to organize it and if not, it's on to publishing.  Still on target for September.

I try to be a little artistic so I am taking the old poem and every other line is a new poem (lest you think all I do is recycle my material.  I hope it formats right!

If this isn't love you'll have to tell me what is.  But will you tell me?.

Title: Dark night dark thoughts/The Swimmer

I was forced to give you up
              /I can almost picture him
when you challenged me
             /Swimming for hours
I lie here sleepless
            /Going nowhere the way he does
Thinking of your dark surface
           /He is wearing my goggles
I remember how smooth it felt
            /And listening to my headset
As I rolled it between my fingers
            /Thinking that I don’t remember
how your hidden tendrals
           /Motivated by the pain
wrapped around my heart
          /That only I can give him
and the pain and bleeding
         /Trying to figure how to recapture love
when i had to rip them loose
        /That he cannot find without me
And now how many others
       /attempting to outswim my memory
will share your warmth
        /playing his game with the universe
the sweet bitterness of your taste
       /he can't help writing poems to me
which i find myself denied
       /never understanding the power that I have
i allow myself to think about you
      / the power of love
what it would be like to be with you again
     /which is life and death
for a brief moment i am transported back
      /death to the lover, life to the poet
then i am forced to face the truth
       /and stronkes continues over and over
knowing that everyone else shares you
      /until he is separated from the world
and the night is filled with darkness
           /by water and memories
because the light of day
             /of me and what we had
will certainly dawn without you
           /when we shared mornings together

The original poem was a double entendre (or something like it, about the coffee I wasn't drinking.