Looking into you,
Barely knowing you,
but owning you.
My love, be fair
and fairer even still,
robbing me of breath,
of precious air.
And there is nothing
you can do or say.
Nothing sweet and nothing cruel
to stop me in my
true pursuit of you.
My happiness, my shameless sacrifice,
Though worlds apart, though raging rivers
our souls still yearn for that one thing.
A thing both holy, but unholy made.
Your love, my love, I hold to me.
Until our bodies crumble, our sins reviewed,
I love you always – reality untold.
(Let’s try something different today, I thought. I wrote this yesterday after reading some of Shakespeare’s. Suffice it to say, my crude poetry is not worthy the comparison, but I guess, he inspired me a little.
Poetry is such a secret pasttime. Most of the time, I’m not even sure myself, what it is about. Yesterday, words seemed far more important than meaning. I apologize for the use of ‘thing,’ it’s unrefined and yet sometimes the only word for what one seeks. A thing. I seek.
Well, I hope you’re all inspired these days, maybe to more than poetry [unless poetry is the thing you seek]. Have a good week, lovelies.)