Thursday, February 05, 2009
Wish someone would fall in love with me.
CAn it be you? Oldest and the wisest. The only one to touch me in intimate strokes, strong-willed enough to lust for me and justify that lust. To consummate it when you wanted, as you wanted, knowing how to make me yield. The teacher, the elitist – the intellectual.
CLose - but maybe not as much, not always though. Glorious Proclaimer recounting in words nuances of the mind and heart with a skill I cannot but help admire. A veneration hinging on a desire to be your peer, be equal and perhaps be idolised.
'ERe I wish you would fall in love with me lovely one. Feel good angel, your golden arrow pierces my heart and fires the loins even now. Those locks that turned rose in the sun, your mead-soaked eyes change colour with the light – something I had noticed the day we said goodbye – for the last time, as it turned out.
EUnym of delight, your name still chimes in my ears in cochleate surrender as do your words, so similar to mine, so identifiable and so lapidary-like in their precision. You were the nymph to this chevalier, seductive siren of song and lilting lyric. Wish you would fall in love with me again, be the song to my words, heighten these attributes to which we both are slave.
MEa culpa, you. You always were, always will be. Head bowed as if a cypress weeping grease-paint and grime on your beautiful face, mascara tearing down your eyes like stilled and frozen tears. And in your hands you hold that life has made precious to me. Your hands – nobody, not even the rain…
POssibly, whatever was between us you said, all these years later and too late, is best put at rest. Yet that which we had given birth together, your child, that which for a few weeks simulated your pensive demeanour, galvanized the cleft in your brow, wrapt the meditative look in your eloquent eyes - I hope that brought the fame you bestow in promiscuous abandon on each life that you touch. That and the desire to be always loved by you, to yearn for me like I have for you, is all I can ask.
TEmerarious like an irresponsible proposition, you could still me, squat forever in the gush that my veins enclose; direct the callisthenics of my form to your instruments of fealty and devotion, this lifetime would not still have been ill spent. The detail you bring to each simulated movement, each conflict, each drama – a feminine virtue embossed in the stars.
THat too is you. Bucolic blossom in the wanton hair of fate. Your laugh, your spirit, your gamine allure, the mischief in your elfin eyes, the passion in your full form. The penance in your simplicity - to touch you is sacrilegious to be loved by you deliverance.
URchin desire, dishevelled witch-broom still streak your hair, dishabille the mystical delights in your mind; a philosopher of fantasy – the mage, the crystal-gazer, unpredictable and capricious. Glacier of detachment, volcano of desire. Cloaked in celestial winds – a cosmos distilled in a body.
Wish someone would fall in love with me. You…
…or lady luck for instance.
CAn it be you? Oldest and the wisest. The only one to touch me in intimate strokes, strong-willed enough to lust for me and justify that lust. To consummate it when you wanted, as you wanted, knowing how to make me yield. The teacher, the elitist – the intellectual.
CLose - but maybe not as much, not always though. Glorious Proclaimer recounting in words nuances of the mind and heart with a skill I cannot but help admire. A veneration hinging on a desire to be your peer, be equal and perhaps be idolised.
'ERe I wish you would fall in love with me lovely one. Feel good angel, your golden arrow pierces my heart and fires the loins even now. Those locks that turned rose in the sun, your mead-soaked eyes change colour with the light – something I had noticed the day we said goodbye – for the last time, as it turned out.
EUnym of delight, your name still chimes in my ears in cochleate surrender as do your words, so similar to mine, so identifiable and so lapidary-like in their precision. You were the nymph to this chevalier, seductive siren of song and lilting lyric. Wish you would fall in love with me again, be the song to my words, heighten these attributes to which we both are slave.
MEa culpa, you. You always were, always will be. Head bowed as if a cypress weeping grease-paint and grime on your beautiful face, mascara tearing down your eyes like stilled and frozen tears. And in your hands you hold that life has made precious to me. Your hands – nobody, not even the rain…
POssibly, whatever was between us you said, all these years later and too late, is best put at rest. Yet that which we had given birth together, your child, that which for a few weeks simulated your pensive demeanour, galvanized the cleft in your brow, wrapt the meditative look in your eloquent eyes - I hope that brought the fame you bestow in promiscuous abandon on each life that you touch. That and the desire to be always loved by you, to yearn for me like I have for you, is all I can ask.
TEmerarious like an irresponsible proposition, you could still me, squat forever in the gush that my veins enclose; direct the callisthenics of my form to your instruments of fealty and devotion, this lifetime would not still have been ill spent. The detail you bring to each simulated movement, each conflict, each drama – a feminine virtue embossed in the stars.
THat too is you. Bucolic blossom in the wanton hair of fate. Your laugh, your spirit, your gamine allure, the mischief in your elfin eyes, the passion in your full form. The penance in your simplicity - to touch you is sacrilegious to be loved by you deliverance.
URchin desire, dishevelled witch-broom still streak your hair, dishabille the mystical delights in your mind; a philosopher of fantasy – the mage, the crystal-gazer, unpredictable and capricious. Glacier of detachment, volcano of desire. Cloaked in celestial winds – a cosmos distilled in a body.
Wish someone would fall in love with me. You…
…or lady luck for instance.
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