I love to giggle. I adore it even more when a man’s wit creates the sound.
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Disregard
Please don’t ignore
My heart
This love
Accessible and exposed
Without first
Commanding me
To leave.
Until then,
I am yours.
Home
to be adored
needed
wanted
found
accepted
considered
tended to
obsessed over
delighted by
instructed happily
made priority
seen
desired,
to be one’s world
Where Do I Fit In?
how can a poetess, such as I,
a writer of love,
her desire for it,
her continued search
of its perfection,
be asked to step away
from her attachment towards
its existence, so that she
might find her place in someone’s
world?
they don’t know me at all.
Delightful Epiphany
it is his love i seek
his attention for which
i plea,
my sun, all the stars
in my make believe,
are shining again,
i’m suddenly awake,
and know just who i need.
Phantasm
when he becomes
more than just a dream,
my heart will beat
the sound of a thousand drums
my soul will ache
with the clinching of needy fists
my mind will race
towards a feminine understanding,
and butterflies will
make sense again.
their existence
somehow unbelievable,
until then.
Seems Simple
curvy in multiple places
my soft spots will be
a favorite
twilight peeking through
i do wish to be with you
