You are a sweet, sweet madness.
You never fail to inspire.
I sat down to write, but the words proved elusive. My thoughts felt like concrete, hard and disillusioned.
So I gave in to your body, your smile, and your mind. I laid in bed awake staring at the photos on your profile. The clock crept forward like a soldier at Utah Beach. My thoughts were of the control I lack and how you say certain words when you speak.
I am mired in the madness that is your cacophony of life. I have no bell to ring within your daily orchestra. So feebly I write.
Thinking of the instrument that is your body.
The sweet melodic tenor of your voice.
You get me every time.
You are a glorious dancer with danger, and I am desperate for your hand. There exists no other answer than to be the moth to your flame. Drawn in and drawn on you have colored me completely.
I would give all I have just to be invited to the ceremony that celebrates the beautiful mosaic of a life well played.
I fear that my role is but the ticketed audience, and so in the dimly lit hallways and shadows I retreat. I remain.
March 3, 2020
Last updated March 04, 2020