Most Forbidden Love.
Some loves were never mean-t to be which is just mean when you drop the -t
We have all met the woman of our dreams and woke up alone the next day
Oh, I have dallied
in such wonderment,
lost in the study
shared between
four pupils entranced
but left suspended
in the school of
life's denial. That Intense, merciless
longing like a soul
ripped wide, a wound
that would tickle
ever so gently
in her healing.
Lips that float
into my view like
stop signs
holding me back,
when all I want to do
is rush to them,
with shared kisses
breaking rules so cruel,
that forbid the exposure
of what cannot be. I am left the empty
limbs of autumn,
the icicle tears
of winter,
the seed that lies
wasted on
barren ground
in the spring,
and the undulating
heat of August
rising in sad waves
over roads
never crossed. All packaged in
the wrong flesh for her.
Would that it could be
unzipped, and
stripped away,
allowing me to slip
into the much more
fortunate skin
of the one who will
know her love
at its finest.
Like a thin gruel
loneliness wallows
cold and tasteless,
in the bowl of my heart
her love that I hunger for
requires two silver spoons
and all i have to offer
is a 14 karat plastic fork
© 2009 Matthew Frederick Blowers III