A poem for @mchelle by yours truly.
  1. How many words might flirt with my temptation to write of you.
  2. For you I may not speak as I have for others but on an entirely separate plane.
  3. I cannot see you as I have seen those before but instead must take up my own convoluted serenade, a brush among my knives, in painting the dreariest portrait of you on the finer canvas of the air.
  4. Might my sounds blink airily upon stars in that they may shine for you. So bright amongst the darker echoes and rivulets racing briskly about in our violent world.
  5. I hope you might take comfort, even warmth, in my softened speech. That my passion might break daringly in fragmented visage for your consummation.
  6. Take earths softest flower. That gentle swaying thing spearing up past fine grains, only there to hold it to its highest sight. So that it might gasp, inhale so fitfully, for well woven waves. Those of sunlight who so fittingly rained beams of gold all about our fair and forgotten earth.
  7. You, my dear, you ease just as brilliantly into skin like marble. But warmed by heart strings swinging merrily in your golden center.
  8. You, my dear, who's hair tends gently to that rhythmic sweeping rush of air. Fine silk, black as night but shining like the moon, reflecting your intrepid loveliness.
  9. You my dear who's voice ignites only the brightest tendrils prancing dangerously on the lip of my mind and in doing so erupt with passion a bounty of the softer thoughts
  10. Those that given form will enter gently amidst the wreckage of that God given grace. That which you abide by and in such wondrous ways
  11. Take kindly to the midnight calls. Heavenly birds scream tirelessly for connection in the dark and greeted by light from a shattered moon.
  12. Brought together only when one so special as you steps forward to spread kindness through the brambles. Killing thorns and allighting rose petals. Sparkling with a beauty's smile.
  13. Here in my empty mind sits a treasure trove of living sounds. Those that imbue romantic ideals upon a blanketed canvas of my world. The creamy palate owes to none what it owes me and I yearn to fill its voids with ambiance born of you
  14. My dear.
  15. Oh but in loving a stranger one is imprisoned but for ones heart.
  16. Who dances angrily and furtively between rows of silver peonies. Waving gently for the winds of a broken soul. Those that move with the gale of hurricane forces and in so doing push me into the sight of you
  17. To take you in as stars consume darkness or rain brings forth life to dust. Envious am I for those who haven't fallen upon your light for they have yet to discern what real imperfections align themselves in your beauty.
  18. And oh how beautiful you are.
  19. My dear.