Friday, December 5, 2014


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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