My heart is stuck & glued & bolted fast like planks upon the roof of my old house
Attached to you.
I write to you.
A buffoon of sixty-four & twenty-two, a guy, a girl & something true
all the thrills you give to me.
& far beyond the sacred tones of pleasantry
& dreams persist.
You take no stake in knowing that these eyes which look upon your naked face,
smiles & dreams & longs for you.
Believes in you.
Screams for you!
I, The man next door, or secret bore.
Or friend unknown or thoughtless count.
A rich man seen
In discarded time.
Girl, Stand before & let me show the world & all of you that I desire & wish & breathe & pause for you.
But you’re moving on.
& more I die.
A tear shed.
The broken cry.
Imagine that the world were books & I could speak my mind & look
Upon those lips which smile & eyes which shine in glee.
& stories bold would I tell to thee!
How much I love.
Or arms in those moments in which you freeze, would I gently squeeze & spark your heart, if I were just a happy part of the world you own.
& lonely aches echo across a silent page in lover’s rage.
For I want you girl. I always have.
& I see your face.
I worship you.
I’m in awe of you.
Besmitten & in need of you.
Your pretty face. Your luscious skin, Your cheeky eyes I wander in.
I smile & laugh & seek to kiss,
A slow, sweet teasing invitation miss
But love remains untold & secret desire will soon turn cold
For as winter flicks its deadly knife & takes you far away from life
I’ll slowly fade from thoughts you see & my eyes will lose their hope for thee.
But I bid you well,
That you should live
But not without this love I give.
~ i see her drifting further and further away & she doesn’t know of how much i care.
(c) Ed Simkins 2015