Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Poppies (The Thrill Of Acceptance)

If you cannot accept someone
at their worst,
you are not worthy of them
at their pivotal best.
I give selflessly
unto you
a gift of a loving magnitude.
I beg of you not to shrug away,
fall into a field of poppies
reaping hastily the bounty of
the sacred, the wholesome, the lowly…like me.
That character does not suit you.
I love you for you
and the respect you bestow upon me
day by day,
with every kiss that heads my way.
Our attraction, a perpetual movement
into the ornate, starlit abyss -
the ambiguous driving force
of my actions
lead me into your grasp.
With tender fingers, so cool and collected,
to take hold with a spherical motion
and gather up all the broken bits
left behind.
You accept me.
I cannot say any one has treated me
so beautifully this way before;
however, here you are facing me
with eyes that plunge me into an erotic scene.
I cry incredulously
at the euphoric sensation I obtain
when I remain sleepless
throughout the night thinking only of you
and how you morphed me back into
the woman I once knew.
I never believed anything could be
as intoxicating as a stroke of the hair,
a fleeting look, a supple kiss
that opens my closed eyes to a world
so unforgettable as this.
So if a tug at my heartstrings is all it takes
to put my entire being at stake,
I will do whatever I must
to be with the one I pine for,
the one I lust,
the only one,
only you.

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