Is it hidden?
This body language
which rides up
the hem of skirts and trousers
Is it a smile that stokes the fire
like a poker
is it the emotion of being a joker
a fear of being alone in the dark
no spark to light your way
Is it truth?
or is it fiction?
is it an addiction?
or is it in the scent
of pheromones or the way you gently moan
when you are touched that way?
like alley cats
we spit, bite and snarl
but all the while
we need the language of love
and it speaks through everything we say
but in mystery is still shrouded to this day.
Who would you be if you followed your dreams and became a truer representation of yourself?
The burning poem it’s words burn like flame
I hold it my heart but it burns all the same
I tried ridding myself of the fire
But the flames spoke to me of my muse
Aspiring me to choose
To love and lose the game
Loves painful consequence
My hidden shame
In desperate longing the poem was a light
Showing me a door and a key
Life is nothing with responsibility
In darkness of fragility
I hear a voice beckoning me
To hide my muse’s secret
and yet it flows through me like the fiery flames
I try to retain the pain and burning
My heart is alight with yearning
So with the key I lock the secret poem in a room
It stills burns shining with the truth
Yet I feel I have hidden a fragment of my soul
That still burns to this day out of control.