I have but one humble request.
Forget not I who loved you best,
Not I whose love will never rest,
With all my love I loved you best.

Acknowledge to me only this.
There is none else you want to kiss,
Mine are the only lips you miss,
As yours are those I want to kiss.

Assure me that you realize.
You see the love inside my eyes,
The tears of joy of joyful cries,
Of your image inside my eyes.

Promise me this one thing you know.
The closeness of our love will grow,
Coming together fast or slow,
Come closer so my love will grow.

If nothing else let this be true.
Devote to me as I for you,
Making love as only we do,
Love me for me as I for you.

It’s simple really, a clear solution.
Clear enough to get rid of confusion.
Wait.
When the love you knew leaves you desolate,
Wait.

The simple fact is, you’ll never solve it,
Martyred anguish will never resolve it.
Wait.
When you think that you’ve lost your true soulmate,
Wait.

It’s a simple truth, despite what you feel.
Time hastens the better for you to heal.
Wait.
Love will come again, even if it’s late.
Wait.

Trust simplicity, don’t listen to pain.
If you loved once you can be loved again.
Wait.
Make your self ready to welcome your fate,
And…wait.

Masterpiece of curvaceous precision,
Artwork sculpted and delicately lined,
As beauty’s natural definition,
She is the mold for all womankind.

The redness of cherries based on her lips,
Honey envies the sweetness of her tongue,
Waves aspire to the curve of her hips,
She’s more seductive than any song sung.

The trees model fruit on her perfect *******,
While sunlight was made to mimic her smile,
She’s sensuality that never rests,
Longing for her dwarfs the length of the Nile.

Butterflies wings are no match for her eyes,
Her embrace is lighter than clouds above,
Her perfect beauty makes me realize,
She entered my life so I’d fall in love.

A day in love is like a thousand years,
With a heart beating but time moves no more.
I know the timelessness of loving you,
Is God-like as in Psalms ninety verse four.

To be in love with you gives me my soul,
Your love is the breath of life from Heaven.
The love my lungs breathe is like the spirit
God breathed in Genesis two verse seven.

Your love shows me mercy, grace, good and truth,
Patience, forgiveness and absence of hate.
It awes me like when God showed Himself in
Exodus thirty-four seven and eight.

The more I love you the simpler it gets,
It’s something I just naturally do.
Love’s forever inscribed in my heart like
Jeremiah thirty-one thirty-two.

Which is the skin we must outgrow?
Walls we push against hard and slow.
To knowledge we’re afraid to know.
Restraints that keep telling us no.

What limits are holding us back?
Things we have we think that we lack.
Closing our eyes to turn light black.
Compassion feels like an attack.

What pressures are keeping us small?
Expecting we have to please all.
Afraid to jump in case we fall.
Ignoring doors built in our wall.

What good comes from our comfort zone?
We’re still while friends pass us alone.
Growing our fear of the unknown.
Destiny no longer our own.

What have you paid for this nothingness,
This refusal you have made your own,
Wearing discontent like shamefulness,
To be greatest at being alone?

What satisfaction your martyrdom,
Your stubborn turning the other cheek,
The Queen of the loneliest kingdom,
Self-loathingly bragging she is weak?

What appreciation have you earned,
Playing the role of unlovable,
Who knows more than the lessons she learned,
Too scared to be discoverable?

What’s worth being unworthy of love,
Flaunting beauty as only a tease,
Fallen from that pedestal above,
If you smiled once you’d find love with ease.

Static with words that speak the familiar,
Narrowest thoughts spoken so many ways,
Bare novel spark in the particular,
A tireless writer with nothing to say.

A thousand new words are no less banal,
When a writer is content just to be,
When the compulsion to write is his all,
He writes with no responsibility.

To lose that will is to lay down my pen,
To no longer betray the written word,
Writing not a thing until the moment when,
Something new inside deserves to be heard.

Unique thought must precede what is written,
Needing to write is to seek depths to plumb,
That awesome task with which I am smitten,
Is never to be, but always become.