A love poem

I could tell you how you moved me to tears, and you did

Or how my heart beat fast at your words, and it did
Or how I have wished for a poet like you, and I have
For months, I have looked for you-

for that large stature made majestic since houses your big heart –

the heart of poet -

For months I have wondered if I deceived myself –

making mosaics from broken pieces

of my own mirror-

For months I have mourned for you –
for words bulging, with innuendos and lust—
for nights overflowing, with lust and passion –

I wondered why I didn’t tell you I loved you as we lay there –

even though I knew you wanted to hear it-

and I wanted to say it

I wondered why I couldn’t find a trace of you in anyone else –
with just one smidgen of your spirit,
one touch of your soul,
or one-tenth of your heart-

Was it an instant recognition of another poet that moved me ?

Was it the way you moved,

the way you talked,

the way you held me ?

Was it that I have missed you all my life ?

A man who knows the way to a woman’s heart

is the simple act of lying in her lap

and falling asleep like a child –

A man who  knows that a woman wants to feel passion

that is greater than just her sex –

A man who knows that a woman weaves webs as she loves - 

so she can roam free within gossamers of her own design -

Finally -- to write in stanzas to a man who can read the lines

and even between them -

To love in rhyming

and seduce in metaphors

and lust in alliteration –

To believe in life again--

in the divine,

in the mundane--

To believe in magic again.

My chest is heavy to hold you, my love