They say real artists expose themselves,
in an effort to expose everyone else.
Always the tragic genius.
Embarrassingly,
sometimes, I let my mind,
still wander with my fingers intertwined,
in you.
I let my ears,
hear,
you knock.
Even though,
I know,
I know,
this not a box that should be opened,
this is not a place I should go.
It is just a byproduct that demands removal,
that I still crave your approval.
Your respect.
Your recognition.
I still want to spark your ignition.
To be seen,
as more than a simple attraction,
a temporary distraction.
I still wish,
I had one more chance to touch your lips.
Even though,
I don’t believe in sequels,
I still want genius you,
to view me,
as your equal.
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I love free form structures like this – rhymes that really enhance the flow of the piece without being overdone, or forced into cheesy ABAB lines. Very well done!
Thanks very much!