2008
Too Much
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I feel as if I am, for you at times even.
More passion than others find comfortable to
wear as theirs. Begging you to feel it with me.
Eclectic, others call me, an artist type they say.
Filled with hopes and dreams for many.
Animated, expressive with hands and heart.
Laughing too loud, painting with abandon,
writing recklessly and singing out loud often.
As I lay with you again; my desire for you filling me,
meeting your eyes as my gown is dropped.
I wish to only please you with it and am surprised
to find my boundless desire almost frightens you.
There is a moment when you forget who I am.
I fight my way through those who did harm, and
find the you who knows of me again.
One who is prone to chase you among the trees,
capturing you as we fall to the forest floor together.
Breathless and laughing for our effort.
I would take you there, should you allow it.
Your gentle reserve scarcely makes that possible.
Yet I desire you there in the open air more so
than on that comfortable mattress behind a door.
I laugh at our age and what convention says
we must now be. Play with me again and still.
Forever more. Feel me as I tell the story that
makes you laugh. Watch me from afar as music
builds within and escapes through hips that sway
and hands that drum. Watch as sticks become
conductors batons moving at lightening speed.
Let me pick leaves from your hair and lay with
you once finally spent, as birds take flight in celebration.
You are invited inside me, to feel what I live each day.
To find the magic in a newly discovered forest glen.
To walk with me and run again when the need swells.
Live inside my world for just a moment with me.
I pray that you should not let me be too much within you.
My intent is always to only feel this pleasure of you.
And you of me. Remember me this way for all time.
Scribble
