You may not know you love me,
You may not value that love you know I bear,
You may not see the service
That I provide,
Nor desire the years of love
And dedication that I
Offered from figurative
And indeed a literal knee,

But I know you do love me,
Just hoped you'd show it more,
Although in fact you do show it when
The chips are down,
I DO value my love,
A truer and rarer thing
You will not find,

The service?

Meh! I love you
So it just came but
It made a difference to your life,
The years that I have offered Appear to count for nowt,
But they are what remains
Of me,
Offered in humility

And love,
To me these things were
And are
Important,
Not so readily cast aside,
Yet it seems you may not
Find an answering flame inside,
And even that maybe concept Really really hurts,

It was Sunday afternoon, and the time was moving steadily.  
My room is a solemn dusk as the skyline would summon a perfect storm. All I could hear was my blood, rapidly gushing, in a body that is a vessel of momentary waves; and I was idling, holding a ***** cup. Can I still even keep my coffee warm in my freezing hands? Forlorn by the sunlight, torn by a whimsical love.

And yet, I still keep you,
as I search for you on the shelves
as I look for you at the other side of the door.

This room is full of calamity, isn't it?

i was excited for a while
but it faded after some time
it’s all despair
that i’m feeling now

You taste the lips of a hundred fragmented men.
Boasting that your divine secularity exalts you a writer of better poetry.
The cries of 12 men are more artistic than the drabness of one.
You forgot to peek in to the kaleidoscope of every angle.
A ravaging between your thighs signals the only sense you have awakened.
It’s bellow so great it drowns out the miraculousness of every other sensation. Stuffing love’s nomothetic void with the resound of the broken cultured man.
Your prowess is not poetry, but the neglect of it.
Your myriad of lovers elicit the lack thereof.
Are you a tormented poet or is this simply a masquerade of whorery?
You drape the silk sheen around your shoulders and dial up the only poetry you have ever come to know.

your licentious pouty lips
your gorgeous flowing ebony hair
the dimples that are carved into that alabaster skin with your beauty marks just at the corner of your left cheek splayed in a intricate row
makes my spirit soar & heart sing
those brimming fluctuating hazel brown eyes everchanging like gorgeous phases of mother nature
your droning melodic voice that sparks command and attention of divine carnal pleasures secretly hidden in your soul