She has lured me, with lust and with love.

Celebrated my ego with pomp and with pus.

In success, in failure, in pain and in pleasure

She

has been.

I’ve followed her, enthralled and listless,

unable to resist the seductress,

limply following her command,

and she has told me her dreams

and she has ripped my clothes to their seams

fondled my patience

and left it wanting,

and left me haunting

her.

She.

She’s enlisted my fears,

as torment.

She’s sung her hopes over me.

She’s caressed my temples with memories,

though forlorn,

her happiness has guided me

through many seasons of melancholy.

She.

I’ve wanted her,

and she’s run.

I’ve forgotten her,

and she’s come.

She’s laid against my soul,

in etchings and words,

that I’ve found in her world,

this lovely, lonely girl.

She.

– janberry © 10 Nov 2017. 3.13am.

 

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