The Beauty Of Love

You are derivative of what encompasses me.  You came and plucked me from my youth, the innocence of me where I lay and breathed with ease, where being naive was my comfort.  You make me want nothing more but to reign free in the air you wander in aimlessly, as you provoke me to tear at you from the inside.

I yearn to feel a mere existence but instead I slumber in this boisterous subtlety you call love.  I am in awe of your presence.  Something you will never understand because you do not even utter a word in my direction.  You stutter and struggle to find meaning in who I am and what I stand for.  Am I not yours?  Do I not belong to you?  Am I not worthy? My eyes are empty; they are shallow from looking at you full of self pity as you display so blatantly your lack of humanity.  Displeasured am I, so full of disappointment.  I will never want you.

Always I have wondered why I let you in, filling me with the desire of your numbness, the beating drum of your heart, the sound forever pounding in my mind.  Summer essence ripped from you as the fundamental nature of you drowns me in this serenity, lifeless by your lies and deceitful lingering in an abyss of loneliness.

Cry for me, ache for me, the tender feeling you crave when you lie all alone in the cradling vessel you created.  Shame on you.  Laugh at me as I walk by, yelling, demanding and open this thing called a heart.  Letting you depict what it is you want me to believe, what you want me to feel.  I feel you.  I understand you.  This heart, will you ever know that it bleeds only for you?  Strum and play away as you always do, never caring to hear the aching beat of a spirit, so wounded and defeated by your careless murmurs that disappear when I open my eyes.

I hunger after the very core of you as I want you to feel what it is that I feel. I am envious of what you have and your existence among a meadow of deception.  The bodies you entwine with every night will never compare to the pureness of what I offered you.

This temple, so rare in delight, you will never touch again.  It is not yours to take, to use for your selfish desires.  It belongs to another.  A man of heart and grace that has taken me as I am with no reserve.  I do not deserve.  A lifetime has passed and with a touch of a blossoming flower, he is the epitome of all that is beauty as he embraces me in his affectionate arms, amorous and honest.  It is his gentle vines of sincerity that heal the jagged edges of my tender being.  At last, I know now what it is to be loved.

Curly Miri © 2012

Love & laughter,
Curly Miri