How long will i be
kept on edge...?
When will the gush
of a single breath
pierce the swollen silence..
With words that belong to you...?

How long will i be
Suspended above molten desires...?
Escaping through fingers
pressed against my lips...
Spilling out as a rhyme..?

I pause ...in patient syllables,
a tune on the tip of your tongue...
As an uncaged secret...
spilling from your eyes
upon my skin..
your hands unravel passages...
translating the map of my body
in minutes that pass too soon...

How long will i be
in exile before we
find that place...?
Where i reveal every secret,
exposed and shivering
beneath these sheets of purple silk..
tangled in transparent urgencies...
unfolding into a delicate intimacy...
Spent in the ink of resonant whispers...

How long will i be
kept on edge ?
And how far will i fall...?

The Man sitting in the chair...
colourful jacket...funky...
The one you call 'Professor'....
He's not a saint, He's made mistakes..
He's as stubborn as they come,
Pompous,arrogant,ambitious...
Maybe a millionaire...maybe not....
But He's priceless to me.

And while He's there...
please bear in mind,
He'll drive you to despair...
He'll flirt...He'll joke...
He'll smile that perfect smile...
But He'll help...He's generous...
Sweet....
He's totally aware of his faults...
and proud of what he's achieved...

And that makes him so human...
Handle him with care...
But beware,
He's my Muse...Mine only...
So,strange woman,don't you go
stroking his jacketed arm...
Not unless you can be Me,
the one that creates ballads
on Him...
Paws off...
He's priceless to me...

"Do you know of
the hours I
spent straightening my
tangled black hair...?
Or the thousands I
spent taming my
curly locks...?
Do you know of
the ages i
spent in front of a
dishonest mirror...?
That lied and lied again about my beauty
Within...?"

And He replied...

"Don’t you know
those curls are a treasure,
My sweet friend...?
When I play with them at night...Again and again...
Wrap my fingers around them...
feeling your original curly sin..?
Don’t you know
those curls are a pleasure,
My sweet friend...?
As they tickle my
soul in their
sinuous intent...

I want to mess your
black hair...
Into a wild naked disarray
curls and more curls..
Spread them with my hands...
Bury myself
in their heady perfume...
And I won’t let you...
No, I won’t let you
Defile those curls...Ever..."

If my Muse spoke...

This one person..
I hope..
Comes and reads
All my poems..
From start
To finish...
Undeleted...
My undiluted words...
And realises
how much
He has changed
My life..
And how much
He has changed
Himself..

This one person..
I hope..
Comes and reads
All my poems..
And realises He
is special
To me...
But not in a way
that can be
put into a box...
Lover
Friend
Mentor..all in one?
I don't know...

This one person..
I hope..
Comes and reads
All my poems..
And understands
how much I am scared
for Him to get hurt..
By pain giving
Entities from the past...
And realises
That I will
Stand for him...
Unbidden
Protective
Always..

Unbidden He entered her world...
Virtually,sweeping away her inhibitions...

"I am a collector..." He said..."Every collector has obsessions...And mine are Snapshots..unusual ones...like yours...
Ones that make me feel like You were touching Me..."

"Poems...I write poems...like an endless film...Weaving different strands together...not a snapshot.." I said....

" They're Snapshots...Pictures of fragments of time...memories." He said..."Lucid...crystalline...limpid..."

I quivered as uninvited thoughts filled me...
Him and I...
A secret space...glass enclosed...
Virtually real....
Words that felt like his hands are on my *******...
His body pressing close to mine...
He is there... and so am I...

"Always remember....Your poems are pictures...of things about to happen... And I love the thrill...
of that just-before kind of feeling...
The feeling that it's going to be a great snapshot..."

Always teetering on the edge of my imagination...
You exist..
Somewhere beyond my reach...
Far away...yet so close.

Words spill out of me...
Poems scatter like
wilted jasmine on the grass...
You make me so hungry..
Eager to express
My inner self onto empty pages...

Sometimes my poems
Go unnoticed by you...
As you live your life
Unaware of mine...
Endless words...
boundless thoughts..

You are my forever fantasy..
The fuel that keeps me writing..
Feeling...Expressing...
A blue shaded flame..
Flickering..Teasing..Caressing..
Would you let me kiss you,i wonder?
Ravish you,perhaps?
Bite the buttons off your shirt.?
Drown in your eyes without a life jacket..?

You are my special light...
Turning on inside me
When all my creativity is turned off...
You...
You are my muse...
My inspiration of different shades...
A hello that comes everyday..
But never will the goodbye...

You say "Get off your **** and write..."
Don't you see...?
I cant bring myself
to write about anything else
anymore,my Busy Bee...
I seem to be able
To write only about You...
Because you are my Muse
And i am your artist...

I want to write...
About embraces...
Open ended wet kisses...
Sparkly eyes and beautiful fingers...
And Boom...
words fill my head with visions...
Clumsily they fall
Into a beautiful mess..
Like bumbleBEEs flying
From a beehive...
Escaping their cerebral prison..
Turning You into a poem..
And so I let them escape...
Hoping maybe you could feel them..
Let them touch You..
Even though you wonder
What to do with them...

I can't bring myself
to write about anything else
anymore..my Busy Bee...
I seem to be able
To write only about you...
because you are my Muse
and I am your artist...

And what good is an artist without its muse? ❤