I no longer keep a journal
But these words I write on paper
Are my deepest thoughts
The ones I keep inside.  
I would rather romanticise them
In poetry
Written over time
With rhyme,
Form,
And broken
Lines.

They say never to underestimate
the rage of a woman
but what we should not underestimate
is the touch of a woman
for that is what will break you
sending you insane
with desire.  

Spinning through all seven deadly sins.

From gluttony through to lust
pride through to envy
anger through to greed
leaving you at sloth
avoiding all else that matters
craving only;
the touch of a woman.

She doesn't like odd numbers
so I kiss her head
in twos,
her cheeks
in fours,
and her lips
in sixes,
eights,
and tens.

Like worms breaking through the earth
Reaching the surface
They are blind to see the light effervescing
Right before their tired bodies
They know not what they are searching for
Nor the danger that awaits above
But they continue
Until those tiny bodies burn under the strain
And their flesh burns under the sun
Breaking though the barrier
That keeps them from the world as we know it

Touch me with only your eyes;
Caress my cheek with a soft stare.  
Show me that you can be gentle
With only your eyes.

And maybe I might let you in;
Into my eyes too.
Where our gazes attach to one another
Through the dust that lingers in the air.  

Then your hands may meet mine;
The skin draped over my bones.
Or perhaps the heart that is buried deep
Inside of this tired and hollow frame of a body.

But for now;
Touch me with only your eyes.
Soft and slow.

In the garden she danced
Hair flowing ebony
Flitting and fleeting from one flower to the next
Inhaling their beauty
Admiring their depth
My delighted eyes entranced
Locked on that sight
As I watched her

She climbed the trees
And rested among the branches
Counting the leaves and the creatures
Marvelling at their magnificence
Commending the creator
My enraptured eyes fixated
Silently
As I watched her

The sun grew taller
And the heat grew unbearable
A splendid combination of her passion
And the peak of summer's glory
She was restless
In perpetual adventure
All in the confines
Of our small slice of nature

She grabbed me by the wrist
That grip she held on the branches moments earlier
Pulled me to the grass and we lay
We laughed
We dreamed
Of summers days to come
Her excitement and vigour
Breathtaking

Finally at peace in the silence
Next to that ebony hair
And hazel stare
We lay until the sun dipped into the horizon
And left nothing but a pastel glow
Inhaling the scent of the evening
Admiring the softness of the clouds
She was locked on that sight

Yet,
I watched just her.