for her
I write for her a poem; I have not the words to speak to tell her how the years have changed the flow of our bonded tide how my porcelain walls once so well-fortified have crumbled with time I have not the voice to describe how the distance has brought back weakness long buried I cannot fight her for my fists are broken and my fingers mangled I have not the heart to tell her how her eyes still so blue-gray and distant entice my legs to falter and how the turn of her red lips can still bring me to my knees I have not the bravery to explain how the sway of her hips still twists my heart sideways and how it hurts in a way that can only be called attraction I write for her a poem; I cannot bare my soul to her teeth for she has chosen another poor soul to torture with her smile and left me standing at the edge of her world just waiting for my turn
