Unknown Recluse

I am lonely but for the candle which burns before me.

My eyes tortured by the sight I drank of her this day.

Sweet & young & faithful,

Crimson flirt & thoughtful words.

 

I am sick for needing her.

For urging fate to somehow twist & bring her forth to my world of darkness this long & lonely night.

 

I am empty.

Numb.

Alone.

 

Her golden smile shatters worlds of desperate pain & feeds the world with love & joy & abandoned giddy smiles.

My angel!

My perfect, pretty smiling friend!

 

I am dying for the love of you!

That I could hold & dance & swirl with you!

That I could seek your lips upon these forgotten keepers of my words.

These gates which do imprison me.

 

I love you…

There! I nearly said your name!

& the world would know!

 

But I love you & my hands will hold you secret love,

Tomorrow in the kindness of the day.

& words will I stutter & speak & jestfully declare

That no girl makes the world so fair.

 

Or breaks my heart through longing for you!

 

For you!

 

& tears shed in wanton, frustrated fashion from these tired eyes.

 

I love you…

& I scream your name in calling you!

In wanting you!

In loving you!

 

– anguish.

© ed simkins 2016

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A Waterfall Of Thoughts

dreams are strange idylls of time, which flitter & flutter through my mind.

peaceful waterfalls flow & ebb like time itself, i walk through gardens of sensual fantasies.

you smile in dutch, i smile in french & the world itself dances & sings.

i hear myself in music blown, like symphonies of old on majestic sky, raising stages.

earth’s crust melts in heated nights, each man abducts & loves his woman.

lingerie falls, like leaves from autumnal trees, & the echos of virgin sighs pleases me.

how can i ask for more than reality to bite or for these dreams of mine to occur?

i sit here naked; a newborn Bern. easily at home within this stolen painted cave.

thoughts repeat as i ask my question, & stories told return once more.

no sign of the prettiest girl, no sexual smile, no delicious warning signs.

the loins are cold, unwanted toys, imagination plays upon her crimson dress.

money that i own, i pay for you, a rich man’s pimp who buys for pleasure.

a day of motions without unrest or meaningless stress, night draws near.

bolted locks are crossed & fused, man entrapped in simple solitude.

rambling thoughts & precious deeds revealed in abused amazement.

brain empty, sugar spent. a neutral colour now. i rest my head.

~ just thinking & reviewing my day, my hopes, my dreams, my wishes & being at peace

(c) Ed Simkins