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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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.