On wings of dappled pink and fawn, My longing pines in the shadows. To emerge, When the air is heavy With the scent of your yearning.
When I think of perfection, I think about your smile; When I think of a destination, I think about your arms; When I think of peace, I think about your words; When I think of you, I think about heaven.
To youMy writing has no import,My reading no class.You make all my wordsSeem like carcasses of thoughts,My thoughts Irrational whims.Nothing I do or sayIs enough to win your respect,You would have me love you,You tell me you love me too.Your apathy to my desiresSometimes makes me wonder,Do you love me,Or the way I love you?
Your silhouette,strong against the darknessof my soul,Fills my heartwith a yearningso overwhelming thatI swoon. Your breathplays with rhythmsin a symphony ofwhispers in my earreviving,reinventing,rejuvenating,my innermost secrets. Oh, the ecstasyof first love!Oh, the fervourof that first touch! Those moments,hushed in their decline,are no more. Memories,agonisingly persistent,remain.
Two of my poems at Alors, Et Toi? Another one really old one All things girl All things girl again