-I feel the swelling in my heart. There is
something I’ve never had, or even sadder, maybe
forgot. And I’ll sit there, the smoke spiraling
into clouds around me. Feel her sacred energy. It’s energy,
nothing more. It may be funny, that in my thoughts of her,
there is no bare skin rubbing against bare skin. That is,
not the dream I’ve had. There is an image: a clouded white
background and her hair in her face. High contrast. Maybe
it is something in the eyes. Something there.
Energy. I don’t see the soul I want to know,
in her, but a story. Her story. I want to listen, it
expelled from her soft lips, left to dance and dangle in
the air. That I may know. That’s all I see.
I love the curves that form her, the tattoo,
the small of her back. There’s a certain beauty to it,
I’m certain. I just want the story. Maybe there,
maybe that’s the discovery. Tell me?
Always been an idealist. A dreamer.
Always wanted a soul; still wondering how you fall
in love with a soul. It hasn’t happened yet. Is there
such a thing, or must we all conform to loving a body, and
how does one love a body, something so ephemeral?
There are certain emotional vibrations running
through me. If you feel them is that what draws us
together? Is there, perhaps, a coming closer?
There’s a twinkle in your eye, when we find
proximity. I would like to think it has something
to do with me. But I imagine it. Drawing only
my energy from my energy. Yours, remaining,
intact and separate. And I sit, and wait, still
hoping that you will notice.
Idealistic yet, I know.
- 86
- 0