What would my reaction be
If love appeared unexpectedly?
Would I be swept off my feet?
Would my glad heart skip a beat?
Or would I cower, then retreat?

Would my feet suddenly grow wings?
Might I utter foolish things,
And babble incessantly
Like a child with eager glee?
Might I become weak or giddy,
Provoking contempt or pity?

Would I think it's just a dream
Where fantasies reign supreme?
Would I find it quite sublime?
Or simply say "Well, it's about time!"
After waiting for love to appear,
Day after day, year after year

Would my face betray some doubt?
(Long ago, hope's flame burned out!)
Yet, passion still burns in my finger tips,
And desire, so fresh upon my lips

What would my reaction be
If love appeared unexpectedly?
I guess I'll just have to wait and see

I want to write POEMS on your SKIN with my LIPS.

LET THE INK HIT THE GROUND.

I Want to write POEMS on your SKIN with my BREATH.

LET THE INK HIT THE GROUND.

I Want to write POEMS on your SKIN with my SKIN.

LET THE INK HIT THE GROUND.

The bodied lilly fires in ashing haze
and from her amber embers I devolve,
into a weeping candle - churning maize;
an orb at night, alight to my absolve.

Remorse suffused with jasmine glazes woe
as moonlight trailings battle hue my grief
for left no infant child to mirror so -
my lover's petals, ceasing lines of leaf.

Nor have, I flare to scribe a marbled ode
that could so hymn or bear my love that shared
nor stone as cold as grey, be just; that owed
the flaming satin, fate had not so spared.

Then let this writ incense - her newly form
until my vigil dims; to death's reform.