Looking Through Stained Glass

I wake to the sound of gentle rain
Knowing your touch I simply wait
For that sweet zest that comes soft and light
An incubus within my veins

Your touch over sensual terrain
Music in places intimate
Yes, I wait for your touch to alight
Something beyond me to contain

In morning my memory retains
The sacred touch that thrills yet sates
That is never felt in broad daylight
And my thoughts launch doubts in my brain

I hold onto this paper thin feign
Is the touch real? I hesitate
The thread of evermore ne’er felt right
Your touch escapes reality’s reign

I create reasons that might explain
This channeled by remote like state
That leaves me with nerves stretched so tight
Start learning to live with the strain

The lie’s no better than the tear stains
In the morn both prove to frustrate
Thus my wish upon the stars so bright
Someday soon to feel real love again

Acknowledgment quells half the pain
Though I sometimes long for that sweet state
And I get by on these lonely nights
But oh, the memory remains

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Tell me what you think... E-mail me:
raivenne@theraivenne.com

© 2006 Raivenne (All rights reserved)

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