Is
it fare to say beauty…to look with admiration…to kayak
dejection?
We love for now…and often forever…to carry
this
love. Is she beauty ever a life adrift a psyche warring
for
love? Our line for madness…ever to go deeper…climbing
and
clawing—afraid to love. Is it fare to say beauty…to
pamper
such beauty…to wane softly? Wean me from it…
ever
to see it…where rebels hide. I long for it…to nestle it…
disturbed
dearly. When was praise diamonds; often green…
found
in teenage years? I’ve grown for ice…tugged for soul…
a
bit rude. Was it beauty? Was it? I ask—to love beauty…
afraid
and teary for beauty; and not beauty…a broken empire;
and
more beauty…a silent struggle. So many years on beauty—
intoxicated.
I was drunk for beauty, pulled by beauty, aloft—a
galaxy
of beauty. It was burgundy eyes, cherry smiles, and
apricot
breast. I loved it; the bulk of hearts, flipped into a soul.
I
cried for beauty—to dream of beauty—stringing guitars.
Every
curve a poem…a woman vogue…to chase where shadows
open.
There was beauty…a tender wound…something reversed.
Is
it fare to say beauty…to live for an island…enlove with
beauty?
