i would never develop a wordcrush on you.

not that you lack in beauty,
for i could stare at your mesmerizing face
until the candle dimmed softblue.

nor do you lack in hourglass naturalpose,
and bellydancing is a brilliant idea...

but for reasons of reasoning,
sisters do not make love to sisters,
yet guide and challenge intimately,
never ceasing intellectual intercourse.

i do not wish to make you a muse
that is fleeting,
coming going,
and at once never coming back.
the only evidence of love made,
stained ink on paperlines.

i barely write of you,
just as the sunflower in my garden,
i keep my most preciously guarded realities
from losing their way amongst the
collaboration of my words and fantasies.

i create on paper what i fear
to accomplish in this set 'reality'.
but you, and he,
are sacred without the words.

i write now because i miss you,
and dreams stirred my head,
and i want to cleanse my Self
of lastnight's midnight
so I may rest tonight,
knowing the real sight of your eyes will
appear before mine
if i am but patient.

and we will continue our conversation
in between deepened heartbeats.

11/01/2002

Posted on 11/01/2002
Copyright © 2025 Bethany Lee