Meek

Time to scrap the courtesies,
the long monologues of misery,
been away for so long,
it took you so long to come back around,
swaying to that hypnotic serenade,
my jumble of romantic words strung together,
for sensual measure, the perfect purpose,
the rise and fall of my breath as it catches between yours,
here in this canopy I lay out my perogative,
my needs laid bare as the eastern sands,
their imminent rumble into a mirage of misguided lust,
of wandering promises and conditioned expectations,
I want the wrong parts of you,
to do the wrong things to you,
I carry the weight of a modern love,
of its incessant and audible machinations,
I want you close by, to feel your rising heat,
as I hold these ghosts at bay.

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