For surely I hide in shadows, with pen in hand
Waiting, and watching, for the events of history, to unfold.
To mernrely, that everything is just ink on paper
to the fact I wish,
everything was just ink on paper.
To that my heart melts for such a person,
A person who has stolen my heart
My attention
My concentration
My soul, of a writer.
Even in times of war,
I cripple in sadness, seeing her cry over fallen comrades
To how I loath to hold her in my arms at such times
To wipe away the tears of sorrow, that streaks her face
To see her smile and laugh again,
Like the sun after a rainy day
But, for now, I can only stand and watch.
Not to interfere,
Not to get involved,
Not to interact.
Far away as the shinning, beaming moon,
Invoked in darkness
To what hurts the most of all,
Is when lighting strikes and thunder rumbles,
when she calls me friend.
Oh how I loath to cuff her cheek, and thy breast,
to lightly kiss her on thy cheek and on thy lips.
To have her close enough to feel my heart beat against hers.
To tell,
to show,
how much I care for her,
to how much I love her
Touching, and moaning, having her beg for more.
More than a Friend.
But mernly a fantasy
rubbish, I tell you
just only lustful thoughts
Till such time came
she had a look in her violet eyes
having an apple of her eye, for another man
the words of desire spoke on her face
Eyes widened
Lips parted
Cheeks flushed
for the white haired, blue eyed, boy I could call friend.
Allen.
I keep telling myself it's for the best
Closer in age, merchrety, likes dislikes.
Only my thoughts of comfort, equival to rubbish,
Rubbish thou admittingly to lies.
Bookman,
Oh bookman, you old fool
old crow
to how piercing eyes stab and claw at my back and thy face
to how the swiftness of short stocky legs kick, and beat thy head
How can an old fool be so quick?
Oh how I hate him!
But, not as much as I hate my naïve self.
Pity me that I said I would never fall in love.
Pity me I became so commented.
Pity me I never knew such sorrow,
Knowing I can never, love.
To how I put on my masquerade mask to hide my thoughts and feelings
How I perform in front of watchful eyes,
with my juvenile, childish skits.
Wishing I could be a child again
When thoughts of love were absurd.
A man of the shadows,
is all I could ever be.