why my hand's out
what i want from you
some sort of glue
& my life planned out
my days & nights stand out, with you
i'm consumed by your point of you
& how you hand it out
from my hush, i fuss about it
not with disgust; i pout, i'm a pouter
just pouting my wants, without shouting
something about your absence
as if, you didn't already notice, you're absent
as if, i don't already know, you wanna bite me all over
& how bad you wanna overdose me with passion
insinuating impatience with innuendos, to mask it
& mend those, gasp &, sighs, silent cries, through piercing eyes
that act as windows to sadness
the alluring reassurance & distractions, replaces the places
yearning to be embraced by you clasping me, like lassoing
each term of endearment, is safe; it has to be
faced by your distaste; mirrored by your appearance & awareness
hearing you peer in, asking me, sincerely
why does this have to be, nearly a catastrophe
for you to hear me, or for me to get clearance, to magically, see clearly
i can't control you feeling the same, still i’m kneeling, your majesty
i’m here & not veering, cause feeling the same, don't change pain
just fast forwards me, into your lane
absorbing my pleads, gorgeously in your brain
getting you accustomed to
someone you're not a accustomed to, to sustain
terms of endearment
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