I cannot make you feel beautiful.
Perhaps if you could for one brief moment,
With one softly drawn breath,
See yourself through me,
And behold the magic you carry within you,
As your friends,
Your family,
And the many strangers who pass you each day do,
Perhaps in that moment,
You would change your perception of yourself for an eternity,
For yours is a beauty that touches everyone,
Except you,
But perhaps through me you could come to know yourself.

Three hearts for thee divided,
Lust battles with duty for attention,
Making waves that drowned your cries,
Yet you persisted.

Three loves became one,
Your heart the sole victor,
To you go the spoils,
And yet you persisted.

One heart's love is yours entire,
Overworked and overwhelming,
Wounded soldiers make terrible bedmates,
And yet you persist.

I do not love you as Romeo loved Juliet, tragic misunderstanding, spurned by society's blind perception.

You are no angel sent from heaven above, God's promise made flesh just for me.

We are not soul mates separated by time yet brought back together by Cupid's arrow.  

I am not a frog prince whose kiss will wake you from your long aimless sleep.

Your dragons are you own, good luck slaying them.

I will not build you a tower to look down upon me from above,
Nor will I climb it in some idiotic feat to win your passing fancy.

My love for you is not some tale told by faeries to orphans to give hope of a better life, of a love for each and every one of us, tragic as it may be.

I love you, simply.

Do you think of me when I think of you?
Is that your smile which greets me from the steam of my morning coffee?
Is it your caress which trails along my neck as I gaze upon the ocean?
Do you see my face as you listen to your song on the radio?
Does you head turn at the sound of laughter with the expectation of finding me there?
Is you who banishes the darkness of my nightmare visits?
Is it your voice which encourages me to continue when I have fallen?
When you close your eyes, do you hear me calling?
Did you catch my scent on wind and know my yearning?
Do you miss me when you walk out that door?

You claim that you're no poet,
That you lack the gift of words,
Yet your notes convey such meaning,
Leaving me filled with the gift of love,
So I respond forget the poetry,
Pretty phrases and simple rhymes,
Continue writing as you do,
As I will love you for the rest of time.

Bloodied and bruised lips,
I enjoy the taste of iron passion in your kiss.
Tears filled with too swiftly spoken words and
feelings never to be expressed well up then slip out and over,
leaving salty trails of dried up promises, of joy of pain.
Dark smears of mascara mark your otherwise flawless face.

I can read your need.
Our stories are intertwined and older then the cave paintings depicting hunter slaying prey,
and just as primal.

Sing me no sweet lullabies.
Rather pound me into the moist earth with your crescendo,
your dirge,
a harpy's cry coupled the siren's song.
My lust will answer in kind.
Rising proud and *****, a soldier standing tall, fearless, with yearning gaze searching the worlds between us, welcoming you, the enemy, more friend than foe, into a dance designed to wound,
Cupid's arrow through our heart.

The only peace we will know will be the quiet of the field when the battle is done.
The only victor the carrion crow,
a ****** of beaks to pick over our shredded skin, our false pride, our misconceptions.

It's not the bride who cries on this wedding day.
White virtue walks the aisle splendid with beauty that shines from within, sending my ghosts screaming as they are replaced with a spirit far more profound.

My knees shake as I lower myself to worship you at your alter.
Any more sacrifices and I'll be dead. I am laid bare before you, every layer pealed back, raw meat for the knife.
I await your tender kiss.

Sleep deprived,
My mind whispers of your soft touch
Urgent with need.
My eyes wander over your every curve,
Intoxicated by your beauty,
They devour you whole.
My skin recalls with vivid clarity
The feel of you beneath me,
The throbbing desire,
The explosion of mutual release.
My mouth can still taste the moisture on your lips,
It yearns to return to you,
To nibble,
To lick.
Watching you dress,
I wait...

I haven't seen her since Friday.  
Weekends with her move
Like electrons around
Nucleae; without her like
An old slug up a mountain side.
Now she's less than
An hour
Away.

Apart from daily good night calls,
I've spoken to none but our cat.
Now my voice sounds alien
When I fill her bowl,
And she looks at me as if slightly
Worried for my mind,
Before she eats.
Don't worry, Wolfie, I
Hear myself say.
*She's less than
An hour
Away...

And has a belly so full of my
Vegetable stew with Swedish
Sausage she can barely keep
Her beautiful eyes open.
Heavy with a strange weekend
Behind her, and the road.
I feel bad for mostly eating and
Sleeping. More beer than water
(Showers included).
Mine was a lighter load
This time, princess.
I'd take yours in a heartbeat,
I'm tempted to say. But I stop
Myself at your
Recent loss.

Now finish your cider. Pat
Wolfie good night.
I'll carry you to bed
Where all I expect
Is that you
Sleep.

We'll both be here
In the morning.

I am left lonely
Tired
Whimsical
Lost and
Empty.

I keeping looking for your words
Kind touch
Soft inhale
Hard kiss and
Laughter.

I do not know what to do
With myself
My time
This world
Without you.

It has been four days
Three sleeps
Dreams
Awakenings
Without meaning.

Come home sweetheart

Without you
I am dust
The space between
The last exhale
A forgotten lyric
Road sign that leads to nowhere.

Come home sweetheart.