Oh to know the difference between a might be and a will,
the solid foundation of love in question,
Oh to realize the fallible nature of society driven by rule,
to know the outcome before we are made the fool.
Oh please believe my heart when an ache is known
for there is nowhere else I wish to be found,
then in her arms, with her sweet taste, her lips that share the night,
that in a moment I might lose myself and find comfort in thee.
Oh to know the beauty of Grace may be round,
in that her elegance of lost hope that now is found.
Look outside the sunlight shadows the morning mood,
there’s a partial overcast sky,
suggests an incomplete meaning,
there would seem to be a distant pain
exists in her heart.
He would try to simply hold on to measure,
the beating pulse of angst she wish
would a challenge meet his own heart,
a desire beyond the normalcy
of knowing love could be trusted
without necessary definition.
We do imagine what our heart believes,
that if in a sudden turn,
her eyes might be in his again,
he would take her tears and meet them with his own,
in this moment the door would be open,
if the sudden luxury of peace,
could then step inside the vacancy
left bruised in
If when in the distant horizon, a place familiar,
would while sandstorms erase the past,
she stands in the sunlit mecca, a spiritual muse.
His grateful demeanor, vivid eyes could see
a certain elegance that one time is lost,
today is in his heart real beyond his dreams.
Could I please offer you my kindest wishes
he did plead to the silent night sky,
I do wish to hold you in my arms and cry.
Because in love we move beyond the norm,
there is a delightful caress in my mind,
tells me she is nearby, waiting in her quiet.
I do love you he would say, as she might begin
a slow methodical step toward truth eternal.
breathe a slow steady sleek
vision suggests wherever might touch
the eyes might be a primary vehicle.
Sleep with me is the gaze
seeing her as a journey tonight,
in the dreams I will create in my want of her.
Remove her clothes
she will in the quiet of a fantasy,
fingertips begin to circle a world beyond my
I would if might chance allow
sweet serenity to want a response,
to want a need to be replaced
with absolute arousal.
When I do imagine her
in the light of a romantic fire
would my mind think anything else
beyond a treasure,
well past assuming anything at all
yet only a constant reminder of beauty.
Beauty that is her,
flesh alive, in black and white my mind,
needs little color to know
the flush exterior holds a fire inside.
She is beauty
we must know that before we can ever
demand her freedom.
She is a gift, and I am pleasure,
the release of her own burdens
become my rite of passage.
For it is she I wish to love.
*photo found on Pinterest