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.

(Blank Verse)

June 27, 2018

 

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