SPREAD. BUT NOT READ
I feel like you walk over me, all over me,
Your gait was long and my expanse vast,
I lengthened to measure up to you,
To bear you is what I knew.
Every step you needed, kneaded me,
Every step you beaded, pleaded with me.
I sniffed the passion you wore for me on you, I lived on it.
A long breath that embodied your intensity made me gasp,
Gasps are what I have, while you have me spread out for you.
You didn’t know that my red was not what you read,
You never could read me, else it would have freed me,
You enslaved me; your love did – it didn’t consume me – I now wish it had.
YOU WERE THERE
You were there, but I was not,
I was there, and you were gone,
Gone you were, past the love,
Love that left the fields bereft,
Bereft was that pining prime,
Prime that prided in its wonder,
Wonder that lusted a fine another,
Another call for a rose prim and too red,
Red was dainty for the forest she tread,
Tread she will for you lured her to,
To the love that was left to steep deep and brew.