Of Muses And Other Ghosts

(7 march 1988)

Me, Without The Mask


Clinging to your heart, as a child to a breast,
taking my dreams from your pillow, for mine had none,
did it really happen?

To have you in my poems, for so many months,
days and nights,
was like drinking a bottle of dreams
I hoped to never run out.

Born from my pen, coloured with it's blue ink
you, the girl who's always smiling to me,
I think I'm in love with you,
woman shaped fantasy.
No!
I really do love you,
and all the pieces of my heart
though they are not made of gold
I'd let you have your way with them
if only tonight, when I'll lay my head on my pillow
you'd be there, to place your hand in mine,
to bear my kisses on your lips
and my arms embrace,
to let my fingers wander, anxiously through your hair
and my kisses on your skin,
to let my heart, tightly wrap around your finger
like a ring.

This is how the world changes, into my heart,
this is how my dreams are molded, by the shape of your lips
for this feeling, this love you've painted on my skin,
will not be washed away, by the world
and within my pity verses,
your face
your footsteps
even your voice,
will always be present
to give me a reason to write.

Submitted: Saturday, May 04, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 18, 2013
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