I fashioned soul from depiction,
the wild men ravenously adored,
not love, nor attention, but thirst,
need that ignited between your thighs,
craving and contagious conviction,
they became the model of your yearning,
perfection that singed your wings,
trajectory strung to feathered life,
becoming the hornet within my beliefs,
Would you wish my sting as willingly?
You smile at each and covet their core,
and all I hope? More than misted promises…
our distorted friendship… You are lust.
And longing. As naked as your individuality wrapped
around the stalking fiend of dusk unsympathetic.
I strived to own your body and soul,
memory and moment etched into our granite.
I am your slave, but desire mastery,
from dying worlds, to new unseen chaos,
could I be your teacher and lover too?
Wicked sin spoken in whispers.
I longed to dominate your being,
showing little care for those passions
that came with days and dreams,
creeping through underworlds
to starve you of false dawn.
Give me more than friendship
and I will tell you all my sins…
Each sheathes your name in shadow,
Behind concealment and mask.
Poem © Phen Weston, 16th June 2015.