Left Simply – With Beauty

He’s my muse,
Maybe he’s forgotten,
Unable to feel
My arms,
How I’ve wrapped them
So many times,
Squeezing tighter,
Within my mind.
He’s the attraction
I adore,
The lust upon my tongue,
Yet I cannot reach him.

Left.
Aching with want
Living amongst the borderline,
Of am I enough.
I yearn for his trust,
As he longs for my mind,
If I give it away –
Then what?
He’s mine – my wish,
Like a daisy chain around
My neck; a gift.
I’d wear him with pride,
If he’d ask.

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I’m In Love

I’m in love with being in love.
There’s nothing I have visioned for myself that excites me more.

I hear laughter
Eye squints as their sparkle escapes
I feel that upon my face.

Silly grins
Dimples no longer hidden within
The true marking of contentment
And its offer of grace.

The best of friends welcoming
Challenges – happy endings -frustrations.
Holding hands, connecting spirits
Building a firm foundation.

Take me there, widen the span of
Love’s true existence
Birth the eve of beginnings
And wrap me in the arms of the one
Who needs me.

Because of You

My desire to write poetry,
has been affected by your presence,
the same fevered passion exists
yet, its been reduced to your name
maybe even a letter in the end
my muse, this pandora’s box, the new beginning and my end is with you.

So come the rushing waters of what might one day be,
bring on the swirls of passionate winds,
stretch the legs of workers in the trenches of this world,
my love breathes in these,
i am because of you.

Belonging

A smile, the product of overwhelming acceptance.
Crazy how writing a sentence can be the cause of tears.
Is wanting such a simple human response proof of a wandering spirit in search of connection?

A place to belong,
Echoes inside of me,
awakens at dawn.

Genuine acknowledgment in a situation played out before ours eyes,
should not be controlled.
Why deny the person across from you the gift of worth?
My smile is yours.

Survivor

When did my confidence go to battle with my insecurities?
Why are they winning?
I know better.
I am better.
I will continue to thrive.
Go. It’s been done before,
I survived.
I would again.

Throwing a temper tantrum would never work.

Waiting patiently gets me nowhere.

Being my quiet self is far too dull.

All that is left is to use my voice, yet, the quiver I hear isn’t very convincing as I try.

Fearing judgment may keep me from the happiness I know I deserve.

Wanting to be a playground, but instead I’ve become too common.

Take what is yours, these words I hear constantly in my head, I used to believe they were meant for me to say to the one who truly wanted me.

Maybe it’s what I’m supposed to do.

Huh, it goes against who I believe I am, but being left alone is too.