Needing Dove Grey

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in blue throes of near despair,

she tries not to dare to hope-

for no one has,

no one wants-

to give what she seeks most.

 

a selfishness-

a stupidity-

nonetheless,

a need:

 

"write me a poem of love-

one meant just for me.

 

"speak of my sparkling beauty,

of desire burning for only me.

pen my depth of heart,

intelligence,

and the mystery that is me...

 

"write of how i change you-

of any good for you i've done.

tell that i've made things better

in your corner of the world-

now, plus one.

 

"tell me that you love me-

would do anything for me-

how you'd drop your last penny

or

swim through shark infested seas."

 

in charcoal throes of true despair,

she does not dare to hope,

for she knows -

no one has,

no one wants-

to give what she needs most.

 

not selfishness-

nor stupidity-

life preserving,

this essential need:

 

"don't just write me a poem

but own its feelings

in love,

in depth,

in deed..."
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