I reach for you the way I used to reach
For
cigarettes—because my body craves
The comfort and the high it savors each
Moment we
touch. You are the ache that saves
Me from the pain of loneliness, the need
That says I lack
for nothing—your cool skin
Melts my reserve like charity melts greed,
Your eyes blind me
with all that shines within
And deep beneath them.
And when those eyes look
At me and judge me
worthy, then I cease
To count myself a badly-written book
And dare to think
that I’m a masterpiece.
And though the
world may think the work is mine,
Your love for
me has written every line.
Copyright 2014 Matthew J Wells
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