I grab her.
– What fool grabs a dream?
Does she care or flinch or take it as assumed?
I’ve confused myself.
Stolen hints of gold.
I’m a thief of her flesh.
I stroke her hair.
My fingers teasing, caressing, exploring her secret world.
I place my head beside.
In the darkness I kiss her softly.
& her fingers place themselves entwined with mine.
Or am I controlling the puppet still?
Our flesh connects & senses, nerves they shake.
Illicit thoughts stumble across my face.
Were her smiles fewer today?
Drenched in the autumn floods?
Was the fool too much & awkward still?
& his ambitions too overly known?
I held her cheek & savoured smooth curves of facial delight
She looked at me & I rested control beneath her chin
I lent in & resisted, dreaming to the end.
Our eyes met & danced & desire burnt strong.
& then the chimes of time struck & all was gone.
Her body left & the smiles had fled.
Clinging dearly, these thoughts hold on
& screams of solitude swear their grief.
Can I ever please her?
Can I ever tell her?
Could she ever care?
– I try too hard. I love too much. I dream of her even when she’s there before me.
(c) ed simkins 2016