in the sphere of love i am
afraid most everything is
a ludicrous mess to me.

however,
there are two things
in this jumble of madness,
that fit perfectly.

one of them is made of pine
needles and hershey’s kisses,
and has a way of dancing
in and out of my
conscious bloodstream,
making me churn with desire.

he is what i long for,
and i wish his eyes might darken
at the slender touch of
my promise. but to break a
finger of mine, would be to break
my inspiration,
so no vows today, please,
i’m in a writing mood.

this first sense-maker
appears to me as a wanted
shadow, and in my mind
i slick posters of him
on every lamp post,
the reward for his capture being my
heart; barely beating and in need
of a good bath.

the burn of liquor would darken
my throat for the first time if
he wanted me demonic and
possessed. i would do anything
for him. and if he knew, i fear
he would use that to his advantage.

even so,
it is hard to believe he might
decide i am worth his time,
and i find myself in no
immediate danger, although i
haven’t walked down any dark
alleys lately.

however...

he is not the only thing
that makes sense.

another billow
weeps across my heart,
another sea
torments my haunted dreams,
pounding like hailstones against
the window panes of sleep.

that shred of hope casts
a light over my encumbered mind
and inspires images of shadowed
hands smoothing slowly
across supple skin.

the dappled churn of my stomach
casts his ubiquitous presence into
the spotlight,
as he invites yet another delighted
audience into his heart.

he is a creature with smiles the size
of a gerber daisy petal,
and curls that shine red brown
in early sunlight.

but he’s in love, and for a moment
i thought her fingers might
linger on his hair forever.
but no such luck.

she twirled away from him after
only a moment of being adored
and he watched her go
with the sparks fading in his eyes.

there is a part of me
no matter how small
that hates her for
hurting him.
but the rest of me loves her for
releasing him into the realm
of possibilities.

oh yes.
he is definitely a hopeful second,
and his eyes are dark enough
to hide in if i’m afraid.

but then that possessing dream
snakes around my wrist,
and i’m forced to admit that
were i given the choice
between
the ghost of hungry desire,
and sweet, permissive adoration,
i would choose the vague phantom.

and the candy sweetness
of adoration’s lyrics
would die.