Malapascua
02-28-2007, 09:03 PM
I met a woman, well not actually met
I speak to her with the written word
She appears to be what I am missing
We meld into one another's letters
I am twenty-one years her senior
But mentally, sometimes I think she is older
Worldly is she, that It makes me feel I was raised in a vacuum
Oh to experience her touch, her breath, her kiss
The soft skin on the nape of her neck
and the smooth curves that beg to be explored
I wish to be in her presence, to bow before her
To lift her up and carry her away
if only for a week, no that wouldn't be enough
So I shall be content to receive her words
And bask in the knowledge that she thinks I am worthy of her time
Time, I wish I could stop it, and step outside my own reality
And traverse the distance between us.
That is not yet meant to be.
I speak to her with the written word
She appears to be what I am missing
We meld into one another's letters
I am twenty-one years her senior
But mentally, sometimes I think she is older
Worldly is she, that It makes me feel I was raised in a vacuum
Oh to experience her touch, her breath, her kiss
The soft skin on the nape of her neck
and the smooth curves that beg to be explored
I wish to be in her presence, to bow before her
To lift her up and carry her away
if only for a week, no that wouldn't be enough
So I shall be content to receive her words
And bask in the knowledge that she thinks I am worthy of her time
Time, I wish I could stop it, and step outside my own reality
And traverse the distance between us.
That is not yet meant to be.