The Skeleton Key

All my sentiments are lame excuses for this invention of love.

I have created, with an absolute bigotry,

I have made this all written word.

The dream of it all is to be a spoken one.

There is no Sunday rest, as long as I can imitate your presence.

There is no working week as long as you can cool my temper.

There is no jaunt or pain in anything

As long as you can still pervade me.

There is a biology I have created.

There is a skeleton I have built.

There is a key I have yet to employ.

There is no door, no body; there is you.

I cannot stop this banter.

This is my dialogue with the immaculate image of you.

My bigotry, my skeleton key,

That I fear degrading.