How sweet is the sound
Of the songbird's spritely tune
On this summer morn

Is it love?
Or do I simply long
For the touch of your tongue on my scorched skin
Is it wrong
That I crave and resent you
With equal measure?
I am at leisure
To act as I choose
Yet I am bound
Beguiled
Bruised.
Bewitched by the kiss
By the touch
That was too much
For either of us to bear;
It ought've remained a fantasy
But your 'love' is addictive
A single drop of water for my parched soul;
It makes me whole
Though the pieces match imperfectly.

My self-preserving hands push you away,
But your heart-stopping gaze moves me to stay.

The creak of a spine
And scent of a musty page
Intoxicates me

A cracked wine glass
Performs its function with perfection:
Pour. Hold. Drink. Repeat.
Feigning resilience in a fragile reality
Alarmed by the touch of a thoughtless hand
That caresses the invisible wound
And fails to fathom its vulnerable condition
Holding fast as perpetual pressure
Mounts inside the translucent frame
And threatens to burst the dam;
An ominous reminder that this minor imperfection
Is a major flaw.

Pour. Hold. Drink. Repeat.
Hold...

We all want to be liked
To have people see
The version of ourselves
We choose to be
And say, yeah
That's someone I admire
I aspire to be like
We all want someone
To look back on
The snapshots we've accrued
Over years of holidays,
***** nights,
And picture perfect food
And say, look
Here's someone who's got things sussed
We all want someone
To validate our lives
To comment that we're doing just fine
You're great
You're pretty
Your smart
Well, I guess that's a good start

We all want someone
To click that **** thumb
And validate the effort
Of keeping the mask on

Veiled from the world the Queen did keep
A '*******' girl who cost her sleep
Though tethered down and kept from sight
Still she shone forth as purest light

A brazen heart (to match her hair)
Beat in the breast of 'maiden fair'
She fuelled her lusts for life with love
Of country, and of God above

She sought no spouse to guide, for she
Was wise enough for her country
As fire and ferver burned within
Ne'er a fool charmed his way in

Her sister, on her ravaged throne
Felt only fire for her betrothed
Yet failed to birth a princely son
And ruled and died in fear, undone

And thus, Bess ruled as Princes do
Absolute, and mightily too
And whether truth, or rumour stark
Purity did become her mark

For she who held her own did learn
By passion, one could easily burn
And thus she led, her heart beholden
To England; and their reign was golden

The light lingers not,
Amber hues of autumn fade;
Winter encroaches.