Why would you be
all I am
if not carved from
temptations shaking hands.

Who moulded all thoughts,
so like mine,
dragging me from self misery
into desire.

Lust gently cradles reason,
then snaps it's neck,
and in those stormy heartbeats
sheds no tears.

Pinned upon these pages
lay butterflies
of once glorious dreams
left to die.

You are my pyre of music
I burn to devour,
sweet, sacred words drip from lips
that are my bower.

I know what vision you hunger,
it also belongs to me,
I reach for your constellation
and just breathe.

27/7/08

Viola Grey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/come-find-me-4/