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