She crouches at the door of my heart

Waiting to pounce upon my supposed sexuality.

I watch, cautiously

In the shadows of my life.

Without colour, the flame burns bright,

Without heat in this blaze.

Though the sun shines forth, it wavers

As she remains crouched, supine.

Once day she will try to pounce upon me

Hopefully with some semblance of warning.

01/12/2005

Posted on 12/20/2006
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