It’s a personal experience, because baby you hardly know, how much I want to see you and how badly I want to let you go.
It’s only me here, waiting for you, believing in the embellishments of a soul wanting, to love and be wanted .
Well, more drunk I’ll get waiting for the proclamation of a love that lasts forever, the kind binds our hands with the lapses betwixt the noise~
we wait all of our lives for the spaces that show us where we can be-the black hole at the center of our galaxy that is me.
We are mission control avoiding a gravitational vortex~ to emit, a consistently persistent- or a reason to exist.
There is a hole surrounding which no light can persist~ a constant mortal reminder of possible inheritance…
You could be this…or this….
Yet I could not know because my relationship is with Love~ not you, silly boy.
As a woman, we are compelled to look for love and to form it wherever it seems to take hold, like a virus very focused in on the perfect environment.
And I can love myself, with a finger and intention, a woman in possession, of a secret you wish you could get to, and your dick is promised and successful in context, but here I wish you well, for this is the soundtrack to my life and you aren’t here to provide a beat.