Pure, Wicked Dreams
When all I have’s words, how cruel of you
to take them all away, to leave my mind
desolate, when I still have much to say.
When, on silent nights I want to drive you
to distant places you have never been,
to scenic mountains and white, sandy shores,
love, how cruel of you to let me wait
alone in the dark. When my wicked mind
schemes angelic plans, how very cruel
of you to feed me guilt of a wrongdoing.
And when all I breathe, I taste, I desire;
when all the fires inside me form your frame,
tell me, how so very cruel of you
to let me wake up without you beside
me, wondering if it’s all been a dream.
June 27, 2018