rubbing no spots, scratching no itches. she works, hard.
having rebuilt her dreams, chasing, reaching, awakening.
she strums on every string that could possibly give a sweet note.
her love of composition, sweet symphony of melody, overweighs at any time that of bittersweet attempts at penetration.
i've locked it up & threw away the key!
way inside you could never reach, solely, soully, slowly.
seconds before words. minutes staring. dwelling lips wondering, watching, waiting.
for days innocent, reason-less, relentless compensation. stroking for weeks.
At weakness.
months & stars of wishing.
she waits patiently, unexacting. watching the heat of day turn in to the cool of night. for something that was beautiful. i let myself down, i got pulled into the common trap of believing my life was made up of obsessing with men.
she waits accepting this reaction as response to a wish of resolution.
my depth screams at me with closed lips, pulls at me, epitomizing my hypocrisy.
when the karma of relationships is gone and only love remains. grace nestling around me. my intention is only of freedom from useless pain.
Gino Obuseng
No comments:
Post a Comment