When the words ‘I love you’
are announced from between those lips
of yours, so vibrant red and gorgeous,
dripping with untamed passion,
I realize all the beauty in the universe
exists only at your feet, and where you stand
is the origin of much gracefulness,
which I long to travel through.
There is little left in me
to fend against the attractive qualities
of your physique and mind,
your personality, wit and charm,
being aspects of your eternal beauty
I long to hold within these arms of mine,
whilst I run my fingers through your hair.
Your voice makes love to mine,
exposing my weaknesses
every moment in which we meet,
my selfish desire to have you all to myself
being revealed so easily,
I cannot help but fault my heart
for falling so unconditionally for you.
I am no liar in love,
as I lie semi-conscious
in the endless field of desire,
bleeding on the bladed petals
of the many roses I longed to secure
for you alone. I am tempted by no other
in the harsh existence of romance,
waiting on your call like a meth addict,
awaiting his next fix.
I secretly cry when experiencing evenings alone,
needing, rather than wanting,
to have your body pressed against my own,
the lack of caution presented to me
in my younger years, scaffolding the courageous lust
I produce daily, like sweat, eagerly anticipating,
with anxiety strained limbs, the moment
I meet your Heavenly gaze once more.
With your bosom, pressed agaisnt my own,
the breath billowing through your lungs
existing similarly to mine, as we lie upon my mattress,
seething after hours of enjoyment.
Your flesh is heartier than any sun,
warming my unwavering conviction on freezing nights,
when icicles threatened to appear upon my person.
I cannot confirm if our relationship
is like the others happening right now,
but I can guarantee, I won’t regret having loved you,
even if you leave, for every memory is a banquet,
that ought to be gorged eternally.
My ears were once bleached
by the harassing words of heartache,
concerning the abolishment of the romantic
from the society wherein I reside.
Even before this news bruised my cheek,
I had policies agaisnt honesty,
for nobody wants to hear the bluntness of a yearning heart,
craving lustrous affection. But your eyes
deceive the stereotypical remarks made by the mouths
of prior visitors, who complained that truthfulness
was barely bearable. I needlessly halter
my decision to use you as my own confessional,
and leap without second thought
into the midst of feelings I have arranged
so tidily for you, in suppressed linen bags
awaiting the trash receptacle. I have fallen
too many times before because of a pretty face,
but none were ever so inviting as yours,
and due to this, I know you are the cigarettes
I ought to never smoke; you are the hallucinogenic substance
I should not ingest. But my heart betrays
my other senses, readying itself to be executed
by your admittance, that you cannot return
the avalanche of feelings, buried deep within
my unwavering adoration. Your eyes,
like blossoming flowers,
flourish amongst the beauty of your soft complexion,
your lips, with every word
expelled from across your tongue,
urging my own to touch them. Your body, blessed
by a curvature
more sumptuous than any hourglass,
cannot possibly be ignored, my mind having castigated
me, each time I overlooked
the opportunity to admire your artful figure.
Your broken English serenades my heart
like the lyrics of Faye Wong,
your psychedelic voice
I could spend a hundred years or more
discovering you and your culture,
and even then, I would have barely breached the surface.
a mixture of introverted shyness
and spontaneous happiness,
coupled with your family-oriented heritage,
the respectfulness you bestow
upon all others, mirroring a soul of utter kindness,
that may still have thorns should I approach.
Your heart is not transparent enough
for my own to ascertain
whether your love already belongs to another,
and maybe this fear, that keeps me from walking towards you,
will become my eventual downfall.
Had I not been so restrained by abstract hesitation,
there would have been little spared sacrificing,
in order to have you selfishly to myself,
and in this moment of uncontrolled passion,
I would thrust you against the wall,
nibbling my way down your spine,
removing any garment
that dared deter my lips,
from going down on you.
Reluctance would be torn asunder
in the preoccupation of my dream,
and even if I had a thousand life times,
awaiting me like a rallying cry
at the moment of my passing,
one with you would surely be enough,
in which I make love to you every single night,
of that paradise you call a body,
before holding you close,
your bosom pressed against my chest,
your breath upon my ear.
But what luck is there
agaisnt the many barriers, that bludgeon
my conditional hope,
and though the admittance of defeat
is not an endeavor I longed to achieve,
I find any other option, is plagued by crippling doubt,
and as I whisper my goodbyes to you
in an almost inaudible tone, not wanting you
to ever know, from fear of the shame it might bring,
I announce secretly to myself: you, my dear, are perfect.
Here I stand, in the midst of a maelstrom,
for I’m a poet. I don’t get paid, I get ignored.
The images I produce in exchange for feelings,
have the littlest affect on those I long to care for most.
This fact is one that should have already been absorbed
into my bloodstream, after all, I was not born for happy endings.
I was however born to love. I have been blessed
with several opportunities, but none
have ever eventuated into everlasting circumstances.
There was a time, I opened up my mouth
to speak with a beautiful stranger,
but I did not say a word; not a cry, not a whisper,
not a sound; the silhouette of silent ambiance
deafening my hopeful dreams.
Instead of terraforming my confidence
into a state of leadership, I retreated into myself,
wishing for vain circumstances that would not arrive.
I am many things, and alone is one of them;
the apex of my existence, without chance of ever leaving.
In your eyes however, I witness the potential for a future,
and I cannot help but fight secure
the beauty of this paradise. It is in my mind
that I propose the incidents which lead toward our meeting,
concurring on the day I celebrate my birth.
On days before this one, and all those that come after,
I carry with me the unspoilt desire to obtain a kiss,
my arms however trembling like a tumbleweed in the wind
at the thought of touching you, whilst I writhe
before your eyes like an ant, beneath your magnifying glass,
burning not only from the outside in, but from the inside out.
Beneath your luminous tranquility my heart has prospered,
and though the light of purest nature warms my skin,
you are the embers of the ignition fluid in my soul,
warming my insides. You are the sun in my sky,
serenading me wholeheartedly with your light.
No words would be needed from my lips to convey such feeling,
for the rhythm of my heart when pressed against your ear,
announces all that which words could barely comprehend.
In a hundred years, or more, the warmth of your hands
in mine shall remain like volcanic ash dribbling across my fingers.
There will be no pain, and no conflict the two of us
cannot resolve, for as long as we have each other,
no obstacle, however large, could dare oppose
the heroism of my eternal desire, to live harmoniously at your side.
I would wish for any words exchanged between us
to resonate inside your heart, like the chorus
of an outstanding symphony, the never ending echo
reducing all will power you ever had agaisnt romance,
to enlighten you with the honesty of my emotive announcement:
I cannot image living my life without you. I would wish
to receive a response, both positive and pure,
for every soul deserves to have their heart acknowledged.
When the world has forgotten that I even am alive,
my only wish is for you to kindly remind my life
why I am still breathing, and why, I will breathe again tomorrow.
The star that fell a few nights before,
bathed in the cruelest malice, promised
you to me upon its rays of glistening,
temperate light, only to corrupt my senses
with its scandalous deceit, and scold
the marrow of my bones to the epicenter
of a heart, bludgeoned and broken
and worn, and now deceased.
Despite differences in culture, race
and religious ideology, by evening,
we stand beneath the fall of moonlight,
but by day, the sun stretches its warm glaze
upon the tendrils of our flesh,
and when pain crushes and saddens
the emotions buried beneath the surface,
we, all of us, can inevitably break
the same. I stand before this page
without a blessed thought, having broken
like a weather beaten branch, caught
in the updraft of a rain storm cascading
across my external organs, for you,
young lady, are the ache in my chest
when absent from my vision,
and despite the knowledge, gifted to me
in sacrificial blood, tied together
in a bow of hair belonging to the damsel
I shall never hope to groom, I can dream
like anyone else. I can imagine to myself
a night in which you tentatively remove
your articles of clothing, which fall
gently to the surface of the ground
like the peel of an orange, while I stand,
torn between serenading my eyes
with the sight of your blossoming fluidity,
admiring every voluptuous curvature
of your vibrant flesh, or standing watch,
eyes elsewhere, acquiring the stance
of a provisionally lone guardian,
longing, for all that I do now.
Every minute left undedicated
to the search for your heart,
renders littler chance of settling
beside you. I will not be resolved
of my guilt ridden pain and jealousy
should I fail in this accomplishment,
lusting to take you close and whisper
pleasing affections into your soul.
How I have longed, perhaps even for eternity,
to caress the desires of your passion
with my own, and to rid your bright eyed
vision of any other paramour
who would dare harass my chances
of becoming yours. Despite any greater
distances that may lie ahead,
I stand determined before the trespass
of time, to battle willingly the sparring
opposition. On the eve of this fortunate
recovery, would you look to me
with kindness, and a heart of virtuous
faith in my unlimited romance,
or will you shake with an ominous rhythm,
and instead acknowledge the love
of a certain nameless soul,
nearer to yourself?
A reading of this poem can be found at the following link: http://youtu.be/_hU1QkLN1ak Thanks for visiting!
I know you could never love me,
for you are but a dream.
You walk upon the gathering clouds,
but beneath the stars
you surely aren’t, for you are brighter
still, a mesmerizing spell
being cast with every breath
taken by your glowing energy.
Never are you beside me,
for even when you are,
your body, beauty and mind
are forever miles away,
and only I, an outlandish fool,
could have believed
for one pleasing second,
you could look upon my face
and see your future husband,
within those dazzling pearls
you call your eyes.
Please forgive my lips
if they happen to make their way
to yours, for I am an explorer,
engineering a tireless search
for undiscovered beauty,
and any flesh I pluck
with my own ought
to be rewarded richly
by remaining unforgotten.
Could I be the hero
you so righteously deserve,
after handing you this heart
of mine, encased inside
a promise, to hold you
every evening when the darkness
gets you down, and whispering,
so passionately, everything
will be alright. Never
shall my fingers, unless otherwise
commanded, leave the curavture
of your waist, and every action
I endeavor to accomplish,
will only ever be achieved
if pure, my intentions
surely are. Never will you
go without feeling as though
you are divine royalty,
because in my eyes
you are the apex of perfection,
and everyday I spend with you
will be a conduit of remembrance,
to ensure this knowledge
remains entombed forever in my eyes.
Who is the unnamed stranger,
that bled all meaning from my life,
and replaced the reason for the beat
inside my chest, with the pleasure
of her company? Is it possible
to live only for someone else,
where oxygen and liquid beverages
are no longer required to sustain a life;
where romance is the only requirement
to waking up every morning?
Am I a thief, for wanting to kidnap
a moment in your life, and share
in its great fortune? Allow me to ask,
might I kindly appropriate the life from you,
and hold your essence to my soul?
To steal a woman’s heart, so warm and plush,
would fill me with much awe,
and although there may be some
who query my intention, let it be known,
love is seldom sensible in its charm,
and if I must become a wreck-loose,
to bathe in all its beauty, then allow the fool
who parades within, to dance outside of me.
Never would you have kissed a man
until you have been kissed by me,
moved across time and distances
by the embodiment of truest love.
Perhaps death has already consumed me,
heart and whole, for angel’s like yourself
rarely venture before my train of vision.
Have I known you already,
for a trillion years, or is it your lips,
which sing to mine, that call me home at last?
To be absent of your affection
would leave me fractured and in tears,
whereas to relinquish this unwanted anguish,
and melt the many pains, would require the touch
of your puckered flesh on mine. Do not let this reference
startle you into submission, and let us not insult
this moment with a tender helping of great passion.
Let us not allow our bodies to speak volumes,
where words of romance everlasting
burn brighter, but hold each other so dearly,
while we whisper lines of love eternal.
If I could say I love you like no other,
words would be barely tolerable
for only in my heart would the truth
of my affections lie, and it is only in these feelings
felt by the heart of yours, that my love
speaks glistening volumes like none
you have ever heard before,
and parts the darkness clean,
until only the beat of my passionate stride
remains in your ever blossoming ear;
queen of my eternal dreams.
In a world, of ever continuous
heartbreak arcades, my intellectual mind
shall ensnare your heart with thought
forevermore, and never shall it wane
nor fail to prosper. Like any drug,
love can be razed to the ground,
much like a cocaine field, and the ashes
of its existence can filter into the nothingness
of yesteryear’s memory. But my immortal
feelings, more stunning than a firework,
are the embodiment of perfection’s pull,
which encase you in a chrysalis of emotion.
At first you will be puzzled;
you will neither comprehend
or understand, but as I continue
to speak, you will gradually see
the light, and the truth shall
then be known; you are reflected
in my heart dear paramour,
as though I were a mirror
to your soul, born only
to be plucked by your fine fingers.
Extend your hand to mine
over the coming decades together,
this ageless affair touching
every follicle of tender romance
blossoming along the veins
of our endearment, and once complete,
set my soul ablaze with the rumours
of your passion, brighter
than any star. Send a shudder
through my bones with but a single
touch, and with a kiss from those crimson
lips of yours, brandished like a weapon,
shut down my defenses
and comatose my mind
in a dream of fantastic romance,
blossuming more sumptuously
than any floral field. Aghast,
I stand before this pasture of gorgeousness
handed down by nature and perfumed
with your scent, this spell
of dream-like beauty saturating me
in the warmth of pleasurable content
beyond all sweet possibility.