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A poem for mon petite fleur |
Rachael Perhaps it is my thirst for you, A cold place within me that craves The warm glowing energy from you. That radiates like a potbelly stove When you smile your real smile. Not the one in which you disguise Your soul, a very worn suit indeed. Years of practice do not vanish easily. We hide from each other under layers of fear Only real soul to soul energy freely given can heal One who wraps in layers of soft blanket Yet desperately wants something substantial. Willing to settle, just for now, for reflection of self, While fiercely craving the touch of another. The tightly wound coils of the spring inside me Have slowly unwound and left me less time Knowing now that the earthy term, FOREVER Might now be measured in weeks, months or more, No matter, I will share all that I have left. Freely cooling the burning lust I feel For things long transposed by time. But there still is a glow inside me. too It is not wrong to stretch out your fingers And capture me while I'm still within your reach. I will treasure for eternity every second We spend together, Mon Petite Fleur. I will sip your scent rolling it sensuously Over the well worn sensors of my soul FOREVER! |