She once quivered at my touch
She once shivered oh so much
But now if I touched her skin she'd just recoil in horror
As if I was draping a sticky used ****** upon'er

Delicately you place your words, beautifully moulded, a true window too your soul
Exposed to the world courageously
Pegged out for all to see like silky knickers on the line

I envy such craft

My words are crudely hacked from the dictionary and flung from the shoulder like the carcass of some unwanted vermin
Left in the dust for the circling vultures to swoop down and pick to the bone

But I am just a chrysalis waiting in my cocoon

One day I shall become refined
One day I shall find the honey and not the sting
One day I shall sow my words like seeds
I shall watch them burst into a thousand different colours and dance playfully in the meadows breeze.

Sitting out on the porch with grandma, talking about winters past
Sitting out on the porch with grandma, wishing the summer would last
I remember when I would fit under her arm, as snuggly as she now fits mine
I remember when she would watch over me, I remember when she was just fine
But now it is her that is childish, now it is her that needs me
I will not judge, I will not scold, I will just let it be, let it be

For sometimes, she sits real quiet,
and says............'nothing'.........but sometimes that says it all!

Love:

How little she knows me, loves me all the same

Hate:*

If she knew more, would she hate me like before?

If I paint the perfect picture on the canvas of my heart
I'd have to keep things simple, I was never good at art
Yet with words, it seems, I'm easily led
I try too hard, I lose my thread

So in short

I do love you! I cannot have you, life is cruel
You do love me, you cannot have me, our time is due
Until that time, we must soldier on
You send mail and I'll write songs

It is what we do!

If fate permits, I and I, will be me and you!!! ***

Your soft caress, I can’t contain
Electrifies my skin and brain
Each single tingle fills me with bliss,
Like that extraordinary relief when you’re bursting for a ****!

You can read my text
You can like my text
You can comment on my text
You can even hate my text
But understand these compositions aren’t for you
They’re for me... and her.....but mostly me.

Sometimes I read them as if I was brave enough to send them
Sometimes I read them in her voice, in my head
Sometimes she smiles and laughs, still in my head
Sometimes she just sighs and fakes a laugh
If in my head I picture her with much scorn I tear it up and start again

I wonder if she’d like these thoughts
I wonder if she’d like me more
I wonder if she also writes
Her love letters were so beautiful, of this I am sure