Every heart craves a deception;
proof, loyalty, least of virtues, is not
what is seems. Every wound,
an imposer; the scar, a gauntlet run.
No leap of faith its landing surveyed
prior to the jump. Softer landings, be
forewarned, only for those prepared to fly.
Still, despite, surrender; strength
unsurpassed, in seeking. Destiny, not
coerced, cajoled, or counted on, the
collision of truth and magic. Love, not in
quarrel’s resolution, but renewed embrace,
certain beyond conjecture, reaching,
never grasping; holding, never bound.
Every confession craves a listener;
a secret place to rest, judgement in refrain.
Every poet, obsessed, a Muse; inspiration
for his verse. His fingertips only dabbling
in the water, assured he yet has life;
confidante, champion, patroness,
one in whom there is home.
Before you came, you were my striving.
Your light, my shore; your tide, my door.
What I cannot know, I can feel somehow.
Love, however fleeting, this I am sure is real,
I will remain, beyond all hurt, careless of every
warning, forever yours, forever true.
No love requited; no me without you.
