To Love a Poet (pt 2)

Sometimes I will be the spark of mischief in your eyes—
Something in between the fire in your loins and a lantern to light your way.
Other times I will retreat to a quiet, somber hole
To dream, to mourn, to rebuild... To settle a colorful chaos comfortably into gray.

Sometimes old lovers will bleed into my poetry, unbidden,
As my heart fondly smiles or mourns their name.
Forgive me my songs of infidelity and wishful thinking
If they should ever strike you sore... They scribble their piece, then leave from whence they came.

I'm the poison honey dripping from your lips
Love spells never tasted quite so decadent.
I'll immortalize you like all the others in prose and pain.
I'll bathe you in all my demons and their filth, but you'll swear I was heaven sent.

To love a sadist and masochist poet in one like me,
You'll see both enraptured adoration and distant dreams in my gaze.
I promise when I hold you, I hold you dear,
Pay no mind to my pen and it's devilish ways.