Lost tribe

I walked down Brunswick Street tonight with an old friend and saw someone.
A beautiful woman.
Her loveliness heightened because I know it and she does not.
Even though I've told her.
Tonight though, I wasn't sure how to behave.
It is always difficult to reconcile the present with the past.
What I am now does not always correspond with what I was.
What I feel myself to be does not always correspond with what I am perceived to be.
And as always, what I want does not correspond with what I have.
We look for a fusion of feeling and flesh.
We often only get one at a time.
My Mum always says my generation want too much.
Perhaps she is right.
Perhaps we should be happy with what we have?
Which relatively speaking is an enormous amount.
Be happy with flesh.
Forget what you feel.
Perhaps compromise is healthy?
Perhaps compromise is right and sensible?
Perhaps it is best to settle?
Unfortunately I don't believe this, not for a moment.
The price of compromise is regret.
To settle is to forget.
I would rather have my hurt and loss.
Accept a life texture over one of ease.
I know who I love and until my memory fades and a new experience obliterates what I feel now,
I will always be caught between the short attention span of my lust and
a cluster of unique feelings that continue to persist.