Though he was so far,
I could make love to him.
His gaze,
His skin,
Glowing in the dark,
So bright I could feel it so close.
However far he was from me,
I could smell his scent.
That's how I knew he is mine.
He had none of me on him,
His being too refined to be part of mine.
My Mozart, I called him.
Every step,
Every breath,
Taken on thoughts of him.
Prosperity never felt too good,
Love never looked so sweet,
Tears never as warm as the sand on my feet,
My hand in his.
He looked at me,
Past me,
With his sight cast on the goal,
That has none of me on it.
White veil,
Black lace,
Red heart,
All sewn to make,
None but me.
I have a plan.
Get him on the chariot,
Ride with him to places only I know.
Shouts, screams and cries,
Whispers, laughter and ties.
Swords, shields and arrows,
Shawls, feather and straw,
The push and the pull,
While I make love to him.
I walked on the beach,
His hand intertwined with his wife's,
His gaze on his children,
My breath,
Nothing but my own.
