𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴, 𝘐 𝘰𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
For all of the books I’ve read, I thank you.
And for all of the magazines I’ve enjoyed, too.
My first notes and love letters, you are the recipient.
Written all for you, to tell you that you’re heaven-sent.
𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴, 𝘐 𝘰𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
I learned my ABC’s because of you.
All of my first words were taught by you, too.
I would learn more languages for you, create more art,
Just so I could tell you over and over; “I love you to my heart”
𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴, 𝘐 𝘰𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
Because of you, my first colors were not shades of blue.
Thanks to you, I am chasing after my dreams, both old and new.
My books are the jewels in your crown.
My poetry is your kingdom come.
𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴, 𝘐 𝘰𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
You were there when I first picked up a pencil,
you are still here as you open this poem with a seal.
You are the queen of my letters and poems,
you are the angel of my hopes and dreams.
𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴, 𝘐 𝘰𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

There is no magic potion
Or Spell or Hex required
No Doctrine 
Or Approbation
Or Degree to be acquired
There is no formula or recipe
Modus Operandi 
Ritual or Rite
No red tape 
No routine
No code words to recite
You can bring your baggage 
Or leave it
Or I can help you to retrieve it
And unpack it
Or unload it
Me of mine
You’ll help relieve it

It’s just love Baby…

It’s not so hard to do
Just to me bring 
The very thing
That I convey to you

Just love me Baby…

It’s not so hard to do
Just to me bring 
The very thing
That I convey to you

I give my greetings to my dearest—
you still shine the brightest
among tulips in my memory.
And to the world well
beneath these walls,
I wish for this day to live.

I still have your name
carved on candles,
lit—in the silence
of your long-gone presence.

And time, as it melts—whole,
dulls the weight of longing.
But I can still hear your laugh
from years ago.
It still stings.

To the greetings left unsaid,
I whisper them to the air.
For my dearest memory,
I wish for your day—
to be the brightest.

Use me—
whatever you need,
I’ll bend, I’ll bleed.
Take the best of me
and then the rest of me—
I won’t make a sound.

Be selfish,
be ruthless,
drain me drop by drop.
I won’t ask for kindness,
I won’t ask you to stop.

My heart is not a temple,
it’s a tool in your hand.
Worn and splintered—still,
I’ll try to understand.

You don’t owe me softness,
you don’t owe me grace.
Just don’t disappear.
Just don’t erase
me.

I don’t need love,
not even your name,
just let me exist
as a player in your game.

I’ll carry the weight,
I’ll silence the ache,
if you only let me
be something you take.

Don’t return a favor,
don’t pretend to care—
just keep me around,
just leave me there.

Use me,
bruise me,
I won’t mind.
I’d rather be broken
than left behind.

I am an Olympian,
An icon veiled in honey,
A statue, supple and soft,
And delicate, yet sunny.

A warm and yielding presence,
Lush curves in sweet excess,
A form the stars designed
To cradle and caress.

When you kneel at my altar,
You do not touch my skin,
You touch a sacred daughter,
The secrets deep within.

I'm made of earth and moonlight,
And stories never told,
Desires claimed at first sight,
Unsorry, daring, bold.

Your own personal goddess,
The marble melts to flesh,
A silent, whispered promise,
Of lace, and silk, and mesh.

So come, do not be nervous,
Lay bare your hidden fire;
What stirs beneath your surface?
What is your true desire?

Alone she waits where waves won't sleep,
The sea her grave, the sky her keep.
For love, for hope, for what can't be,
Just bones adrift in memory.

No voice to cry, no soul to see,
Yet still she waits eternally.
Time turned her into bone and air,
But still she lingers, as if one cared.