Image for the poem untitled1


He saved me from my self loathing
spurred me on in my inner battles
guides my emotions, like I'm the kite in his wind
he doesn't show emotion much, but love is in action
in his constant gardening of my soul
he crafts me like his bonsai
bending me to his image;
strong, humble, economical, beautiful.

He crafts a woman of me
to his masculine strength I am bowed,
shaped and made new; softened
til my spirit, once a raging fire
is now a soft, gentle, autumn breeze

He is my soft, golden sand upon which I bathe
in his glorious sunlight
His hair, like the bow of a tree,
lit by the rays of the gods
an inner carving, unseen by the uncarved eye

I see inside the case of him,
open him like wine in the evening moon
I drink his skin, naked, next to mine
petals on the rose, folding into one another
for a time, or until death, who knows
but, here, right now, love visits
Written by Deathkitty_134 (Khach0)
Author's Note
Sometimes, it looks so ordinary you miss it. Other times, you're lucky enough to know it.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3 reading list entries 2
comments 9 reads 215
PoetSpeak Honoria
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
Today 4:35pm by Styxian
Today 6:16am by DerrickOlley
Today 2:59am by rabbitquest
25th November 2022 8:57pm by BobbyJames
25th November 2022 2:19pm by Strangeways_Rob
24th November 2022 5:12pm by EdibleWords