You were always there, albeit fleeting,

for three long years, you came and went from my line of vision.

So why now? Why him? Why me? What am I repeating?

Do the patterns in my life need serious revision?

I remember November,

nerves in a new city,

locked down in surrender,

refusing everyone’s pity.

In the fight for survival,

I did not pay attention.

I wage silent battles within my soul,

which has long been a black hole

where dreams of vulnerability go to die

too tired to fight, to try,

That is,

Until I dreamed of him.

Broken, before he has even held my heart,

I silently fall apart,

Tears fill the deep blue sea

Why him? Why now? Why me?

A dumb-ass horse to poisonous waters,

is what I am…

With a desire that never falters,

giving way too much of a damn.

Famine,

Examine,

my shrinking flesh,

my brittle old bones,

And you, always cool and fresh

playfully throw stones.

You have no idea, not a clue

About the great big iceberg

that lurks beneath these depths so blue.

He teases, he cuts with his words

the very heart of me.

Hungry…

I want his undivided attention,

But I have no right to hope

For his affection,

And yet, I tighten the rope

with false hope and expectation.

I want more words

as is custom to our conversations…

I want him, all of him, but it’s too much,

for I have no claim to his touch.

Starvation,

for salvation,

that will never come.

-Sorting through some feelings…

In spite of her better judgement,

She could not help surrendering to the allure of his words.

So aloof she seemed; hiding fantasies so self indulgent

Unwilling and unable to move forward.

His face.

His square jaw.

His hair.

She dreams of ripped lace,

Raw,

Without a care.

Tears have been shed,

Blood has been bled,

But she won’t dare wish…

For the torture to end.

Because if nothing else…

It is romantic.

Cinematic.

Tragic.

Lost in the adventure

Of his wild and cryptic mind

She left her soul behind,

Burning her body in rapture.

God, forgive me,

For I know that what I desire

Is forbidden.

Naked, defenceless,

A fool, lost and alone.

Shockwaves, relentless,

No one to call her own

Still, she clings to broken dreams,

Until her dying day, her last breath,

It seems.

Love, it makes us mad with hope

Crushed,

mercilessly,

by reality.

In spite of knowing better,

We choose pain,

With nothing to gain.

– Does love strip us of free will?

After-thoughts…

Is there such a thing as free will when it comes to love?

Yes, we can channel our love however we choose,

But the feeling itself, does not simply vanish by choice.

It persists, enslaving us, despite our best efforts to be free.

This, to me, challenges the the very notion of free will in all matters concerning love.

The Faceless guitar player…

The soldier,

The servant,

The mountain.

He emerged from my unconscious,

As a god of the Atlantic Sea.

The dark prince, a hero, and a monster…

I wonder if he will forever remain locked in consciousness.

His bravery ignites a fire within me.

I want him, yet he remains beyond reach

Someone to teach…

Everything I cannot see.

Somehow I always knew

I deeply desired you.

Asleep, a princess awaits…

a prince who will only dance before her,

Provoking desire, opening hell’s gates…

Tantalising lust, yet never daring to kiss her.

He is a mystery,

Yet somehow, also a tree of knowledge.

An enigma of unknown and captivating history,

Whose presence, I consider a tremendous privilege.

The hermit, he is a silent inquisitor,

Wandering and questioning, yet seldom speaking,

A thoughtful investigator

Always seeking.