writing words & Her
Oh I do on occasion confuse,
the true meaning of love,
it is when in an intellectual storm,
I sometimes forget,
or perhaps I choose,
while deep inside my mind,
I know the answer manifests itself as a want.
I want to seduce her,
I want to have her gasp at my touch,
I want to teach her how to let go and journey beyond
I want her to love me,
in the same manner I wish to always love her.
Then later, after the travel, the explosive gathering of storm,
when feeling the shelter of her center,
the beauty is grace in the arms of her sweet passion,
when I do recall the words,
I know she might wonder about
Is it a ploy, or a necessary piece of the whole,
where does elegance come into play,
when the ultimate goal is to bring distinct pleasure
into her life,
into her being,
into the reason she might wish to breathe, to feel, to respond.
When do the words seem enough.