I could write erotica
Words flushed with heat
And lust
A bare trace of plot
Sliding through the lines
like soft skin on silk sheets.

I could paint pictures
with sultry poses,
long limbs entwined in a battle of flesh,
pictures to bring a tingle,
a shiver dancing across your skin.

I could whisper salacious stories
with my lips just above your ear,
hot breath and a teasing lilt,
testing the boundaries of self-control.

I could pass along this poem,
lay forth my cards,
exposed provocatively on the table,
making my intentions known.

imagine the day you
find someone and,
enthralled with them,
you cater to their every wish.
slowly, they demand you change the core
of your very own heart
and soul.
and after you have
transformed
so radically,
that your reflection is
unjustifiably unrecognizable,
they get up and they just
*******
leave,
and
you are left
in a foreign expanse
of a space that you once knew
like the back of your hand.
~imagine that day, and promise yourself it will never come~

Imagine.
Summer rain, hand in hand through old city.
Rock wall around, narrow streets.
Small markets and private galleries around
People looking for the roof or restaurant.
And we crossing the street patiently.
Wet and looking forward to each other...

If readers were made rulers
Their knights would wield pens
Their wars fought on paper
And their subjects imaginary

Lumber arches guide me through
Wooden doorways old and new
So much to see in this world of fantasy
Come with me

I miss my theater
I miss the lights
I'm finding I even miss
The many sleepless nights

Cause now I lie awake
My head so filled with song
I'm finding that without you
The world just feels so wrong

I miss the chaos
I miss my crew
I miss every little thing
That I used to do

I cannot reschedule
The last curtain call
I cannot imagine
A year without you all

I'm crying, I'm trying
The tears, they never fall
I cannot imagine
A year without you all