She is the essence, of my life, although I breathe on my own.
She is my light, as I wander, even so long, still alone.
Spirit? Ghost? Most real of all creatures?
I FEEL, see and sense, each one of her features.
Through her and with her, I have grown and grow still.
Is it loving? Or loving as much, my free will?
***
She speaks to me, dreaming in the darkness of night
Her Visage, a countenance, defeating all fright,
then spreads herself over in some dawns early waking
A smile perhaps, kisses leaving me quaking.
There has been no other causing such pause
yet between us there is, no defined legal clause
***
I have heard her screams, inner most assails
as over my form felt her dragging her nails
down the length of my back, escaping within me
While her demons attacked, she looked to be free.
One definite purpose, exploring truths from within
Not dictated by, nor defined as some sin.
***
A place to be swallowed, or swallowed by another
Friend or Protector, Comrade, or Lover,
allowed to bleed, and be shed of her chains,
even as loosening might reverberate pain.
She still needs so much, to know her own strengths,
and I thought so often, I'd often gone to great lengths,
***
Only to find I had weakness as well
hiding so deep in some ego borne shell.
this part of me exists, in some want, some need,
this part of me bleeds, when cut, she too bleeds.
If Hell is defined by moaning some loss
then it is at our hand, so often we've tossed.
***
If evil resides as some endurance test,
then I submit to endure, to be at my best.
If I sense her crying, I will cry too
until I am dry and my demons are "through."
She is my salvation, redemption and cure
That I LOVE her is fact, of that I am sure.
2007-12-30
11:52:13
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7 answers
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asked by
DIY Doc
7
in
Poetry