I have a confession to make,
to you
not of crime,
but out of love.
A crime d’amour
for loving you dear,
my love, so read now
and hear
me.
Ode to L.
This
is
in reference
to the woman
I hold
in reverence as only I
am truly allowed
to revel in the gold
of her presence.
In her beauty that
dazzles, natural
truth, and embezzles
thoughts of youth.
Long gone,
young lady,
a woman you
is I behold.
Mystery told,
untold
radiance unfolds,
as reality moulds
into your skin, cold,
arches and arcs,
as I hold you
dear,
and
near
me,
darling,
I revere
in your
darkness
and light,
seen in eyes
yours.
Souls left,
I stare right
and sense
whole-
ness,
enough-
ness,
divine-
ness,
so I want less
of more women,
woman,
you are
love
at the core,
ancient lore
and
past lives
pouring from
chest and
pores I
not possess
but adore.
Every bit,
every
bite I sink
and soak
and drink
in your
presence,
I cherish
your
existence
and
insistence
in loving
me.
Persistence
I can never
thank you
enough for,
love.
But will now
by saying,
I love
you.