Unlock,
the curious case
of the face
I desire
to decipher.

Round and smiling
consciousness
calling for a cure
to loneliness.

Partially ******
but my preference
lay more in
the heart for learning
by conversing.

She is a bowel
of all my favorite
ingredients,
passionate,
intelligent,
kind, and
creative.

On the tip of
my tongue
and I can taste
just a hint of
developing love.

But when I see her
I become the retreater,
because a lifetime
of abuse and rejection
has been my teacher
stating that in each case
of passions such as this
I must admit
that I am beneath her,
and any proclamations
I would endeavor to
bequeath her
would only
be followed by
a polite decline
and a future
guarded disposition.

Thus, pink petal hearted
fallen, and dried
crumbles in
the unrepentant
desiring
of someone
I believe
will never see me
in a similar fashion.

So, I play jester
to her queenly court
proffer kind words of
admiration and support,
then walk an ever-thinning path
back in to the black
as other happy lovers
play and laugh
in the sweet summer breeze.