Out of Greek myth, she
Glowed at the party and proved,
Stories I had told.

Why do i do this to myself?

I want you.
In silence i beg for your attention.
I just wanna be able to love you & treat you right.

You push me away.
Every chance you get.

I cry myself to sleep sometimes
Cause the feeling of unwantedness you bring to me drives me insane.

Why don't you reply?
Why don't you want me?

Your words say one thing
Your actions say another

Your hands create a beautiful story on my body.
Your lips makes the butterflies in my stomach go crazy.

In the morning you disappear...

I just want to love you like you deserve.

Some called her a *****,
but she was so much more
than that shallow moniker.

I called her
an over-active
lover of desire
& who has never
wanted something
they love.

She's sweet moondust,
glows splendidly,
is hypnotic.

Her moods are fleeting,
she suffers from phases
& craziness abounds,
I can feel it
& yet,
I am totally mesmerized
by her seductiveness.

When our eyes meet,
I become intoxicated,
am so in love
with her dark
****-energy.

She makes me full,
we need to kiss &
burn the night away,
soon.

I have my stacks,
my stacks of poetry
& science fiction
surrounding me.

Haiku
& Thoreau,
Gibson
& The Wasp,
Shakespeare & Poe,
amongst lots of others.

And in those moments
I'm high on green tea
& cheesecake,
I hear their whispers,
calling out,
calling out to me
& oh what comfort,
how soothing it is
when the books talk,
they're not fakers,
reminding me of love,
the starry heavens above,
nature & androids,
humanoids & war,
a little bit of peace.

And you know
my good friends,
I don't need *****
or ******* cigarettes
to tuck me in at night,
just my whispering books,
everybody should
have some lying around,
just to hear their murmuring.

If it doesn't set your insides on fire, is it really love?