This poem makes me laugh. I wrote it. When you read it, take the title literally “FORWARD” — very blunt, very straighforward: like I wish I could be sometimes. But only sometimes.:


Illeviate my tender soreness,
suppress my throbbing pains;
Love, — I plead –, come back, relax to me
so that I might release this infalliable infatuation.

It ends this night,
this eternal aching (on my part);
I just may not fight fair, I plot,
so that my calculated blueprints might be successful.

My secrets unveiled in a thick flood,
my personal flood of emotional distress and agony;
poor child — that must have surprised your eyes
to the pinpoint of fright.

This night we pass by the surprise,
we turn about to our pleasure and the passion (don’t we?);
My Love, it is our turn to observe tension’s power
to the final destination of bend to break.


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