to mend with gaze and longing
Life is so vividly absent without romance.
though i am inspired by others in a way that is tender, so reachable.
My work is still very much my own. I am sure of it.
do not forgive me for indulging in this,
for penmanship and borrowed words made my own require no forgiveness.
I will always long and reach for the kiss of my own words
resting on the tongue of another.
Once again i say, what is tenderness if not for a shared experience?
the most pleasurable and fulfilling excursions remain to be only
the things we are able to share with each other.
I am done with writing of supposedly and irredeemably doomed romance.
i only wish for the taste of rest and assuredness.
And it shall remain so.