UnOrthodox

Is it not for these words
i express my dire circumstance
like your kiss, and addition
protruding my brain
and the crimson sapphires entangled
in the glare of your eyes
seduce me by your mortal flame

Is it not enough that when spoken
i make known my emotions less
than the previous incidents
Have faith lost its golden halo
Why must you deny me

Is it that my intentions are most pure
that i crave the curves of your cunning seduction
and so be it that i owe none than a dollar
to my name but that name can be your own
for the price of a chance

What is this that is a tremor in my shins
an ache that beats through
and poisons me when i breathe?

Is it lust?
far no, my eyes grace you not as a superior
but as a delicate blanket wanting
to secure your life

Is it Hate?
Far no, not hate within me
not hate that you refuse me but
a longing that hate strangles
and bears the fruit of its flesh and bones

But alas Love is my calling
from the top of the windmill
to my creaky old apartment
from deep within my being
to a hope that just glides to your lips
a simple prayer for the mistaken
and a hope you well accept