on this night of contemplation, the poet sits to whisper about a love in the longing and the beauty therein. as if to say... goodbye my love... till hopeful "next time" come...
across a miles long digital pond, he gazed upon her digital frame and found her familiar. he heard her digital breath and thought it soothing. he looked into her digital soul and saw her heart was made of flesh and blood. beating alive with a passion that cracked all waves that came her way and with it, a blood that bore his name... not unlike his own.
a sudden rush, this beauty's hush of intermittent silence. all at once... smitten and "seen". her laugh, her cry, her rage... her unwanted cage. all making her the more beautiful at every glance. a potential partner worthy of a dance that wills itself the chance... at a love so reckless... it would generate a silent fear of pain.
he pondered what her skin would feel like on the tips of fingers, what her lips would taste like teased across his own & what her naked body would feel like pressed against his flesh. the soft, the hard... her beauty on his beast... the poet on his page... the frustration in his rage left him... wanting.
these "good things" that come and go. all we forget and all we know... they may not last but for a season. but alas my seasons are eternal. they are chapters in a strange book that includes characters that show up from time to time to let me know just how temporary they are... and how beautiful their coming and going is to me. the pain of the pine of a beauty so fine is worth the breaking of my heart... and the renewing of the same.
to lightly hold what rests unsold. my passion's curse, this lonely verse I have rehearsed... till death my heart doth part.
oh come my love... come to me
come kiss this heart set free
~moses apollo apolinaris