Fiat Amor
I want
like sonnets beckon
a love so true as fiction
investments deep in true reflection
emotional direction
I will that she will for me
as though we together share in love
a simple passive harmony.
I am a mess of things
of jumbled thoughts and misdirection
an honest soul with no momentum
stunned in the face of the universe
and she would love away the emptiness
bring to life the subtle verse
of dead poets in lively reenactment
like her to me is my Sonnet 29
and in her presence I smolder
with the intensity of her admiration
and I in bed entwined by wrist and hip
feel so baked by summer's loving sun
her warming smile, and tracing fingertips
in midday slip to comfort's siren call
and nap away the day in lull
with her and feel complete.
What a beautiful mess we'd make
all skin tones and white sheets
so beautiful would we
that the dust from my dim room
caught mid-flight in sunlight's glint would
seem to sparkle more in your presence
than the many days it spends in the solitude
of my lacking company.
But be damned if fables ever see the light
of day today in any sense,
and die all the fairy-tales
and old love true and bold
smothered by their consequence
the world is lost and gone
without the sounding of a requiem
for dreams now dead and absent.
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