For my One and Only
As if in pleasure or in ever present pain
There is that ever pleasant treasure of which I shall explain
Is there an inquisitive and ever curious soul which inquires upon,
My ever present and mysterious poem?
My only wish, my inquisitive counterpoint,
Shall be increased by libidinous vulnerability
Weakened as I am by your beauty
And futile as I am in resisting culmination, eternity of which I wish
You know that I know
That it’s so hard when you know
I’m all that you know
So hard when you know
You pretend not to know
So hard that I know
You feel what I show
So hard when you know
Our souls have a hole
I still pertain in essence
Only in your presence
My docility, my ever pleasant treasure
Prevailing as it is by your proclivity in pleasure,
Is yours my lovely
