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.