Letters to Dandelion

by Xve

  knurls of my fingertips

  eagerly anticipating the

  warmth of her own touch

  to encircle my own.

  My eyes grew wet with tears.

  A smile turned up for a small

  second –

  then my heart sank like a stone,

  as from my hand, her grip –

  slipped.

  The Reach – ll

  I want to stretch out my arm,

  and reach for your hand –

  So when our palms meet

  and our fingers land,

  into a knitted hovel

  of love.

  Knowing that your touch

  is an extension of your beauty,

  Believe me –

  my reach, would be for you

  only.

  For I could never imagine

  being without you.

  But, my reach, falls short.

  Because I’m always the one

  reaching out, and you’re

  the one running about.

  I hate to say –

  I want.

  Because no one seems to

  care about that.

  I hint that I would like,

  which is more subtle

  than direct.

  It just feels so perfect,

  but so many things I never know.

  I lost you for 6 months.

  A monsoon of tears I’d often

  daily cried.

  I was reaching out for you then,

  but the reality of the situation

  soon set in, and to me did not lie.

  I am just a man. A flesh and blood

  human being –

  I am full of love for you, this is

  something I hope that you are

  seeing.

  Please baby –

  I’m reaching,

  I’m hoping,

  I’m trying,

  I’m dying – to be the one

  who loves you daily.

  Please, all I ask, is that you

  just don’t play me.

  I’m not rich, or made of money,

  But if you became mine, then

  nothing could stop me –

  from claiming glory, of any

  new story

  We could both write to summarize

  the tale of our love in our lives.

  I would love to reach to you, to

  place a ring on your finger –

  I would love to reach to you, to hand

  to you, or take from you, our daughter.

  I would love to reach to you, in the coldest

  part of the darkest night –

  I would love to reach to you, to keep you

  warm and safe, and do things for you right.

  My hand is open,

  my heart is open,

  and though it is

  easily broken,

  I love you so much –

  That it is worth the pain

  from the reach.

  Why can’t we both agree,

  That is we could simply

  get past the small issues,

  we might just be perfect

  for each other?

  Grave and subtle differences between Man and Woman

  Let me take you to a better

  place, he said, with a heart

  full of grace, as open and

  brilliant as the new day

  sun.

  Let me be the one, who extends

  of himself, to bless you so you

  can rest and grow and learn to

  love.

  No, she said. I don’t need you,

  nor want you, I am who I am,

  and won’t bow to you.

  Bow to me? He replied, there

  is no need. I want to put aside,

  all childishness and foolishness.

  I have long been in the pit, of

  lies and games and deception,

  my new mission, is to love

  someone, you, if you will allow.

  No, she said, I am in love with

  substance, and with circumstance,

  and I won’t take a chance, not

  with you, because we played

  the game of flesh and it’s not

  worth it.

  And he said, take my hand,

  we are still who we are. We

  are still two who can become

  one. We are still two who

  can think as one, we are still

  two, who can overcome, we

  are still two, who can live,

  love, learn and grow together.

  Life is not always as such, I

  know, I have grown. Please

  trust in something, other than

  yourself?

  I can’t she replied. My eyes

  can not see that far. I am trying

  real hard, on the small that I

  am able to create for me, though

  you laugh at my progress, for

  me, you would never guess,

  just how hard, even that was

  to come by.

  My life is in shambles, my home

  is lost, I only have my pets, and

  those who I can manipulate to

  support me.

  I can not manipulate you. You

  want the real me, and a real me

  does not exist.

  I can see the real you he exclaimed,

  I can touch the real you. You are

  not dead. You are just in limbo.

  Let he guide you through? Let

  me hold your hand and at the

  end, love you like you should.

  She silenced for a moment, and

  thought and pondered and bit

  her lip, then said -

  No, Because, I am just me, and

  it is my nature, to stay as such.

  She won’t pick me.

  I’m out of her league.

  Or, should it be –

  the other way around?

  Then I wouldn’t frown.

  So much.

  I would wait.

  Just to see her face,

  smile at me,

  glow towards me.

  But, the clock ticks on

  and she uses who is close.

  I want to be used.

  I only want to touch her –

  I’ve loved her.

  But, it was one-sided.

  I dream too much.

  Short, vignettes of desire.

  Strokes too the much the

  raging fire in my mind.

  - in hopes

  - in fact,

  that I want her.

  But, I’m just the bent ten in

  a new deck of Aces and Clubs.

  Her beauty is so subtle.

  And yeah, she’s a bunch

  of trouble –

  But, trouble couldn’t be

  any cuter.

  I’m a fool man.

  She’ll never pick me.

  In a sea of authenticity,

  I’m not the Pantages Lamp, or

  the hundred year old pair of

  underwear.

  I’m nothing special.

  So, who am I to dare,

  to cast my hat in the ring?

  I’ll show you how –

  With everything I’ve got.

  This life,

  This moment,

  These situations

  are my only shot.

  So why not?

  My heart sprouts roses

  when I see her.

  My skin turns to ginger bread

  when I touch her.

  My eyes narrow so,

  from a smile that I can

  barely see her.

  She is who I want.

  I can only hope,

  that, she’ll pick me.

  Most mysterious mystery

  What is the beauty of a woman truly for?

&n
bsp; Was it given to her to use, to become a whore?

  Was it given for gain; to trade for profit galore?

  Was it given for her to use to explore,

  the seductive evilness of an exploitive world, distressed,

  where no one could really care a pound less?

  This is just my guess,

  as I will confess,

  to the confusion and duress,

  of the pain I feel in my chest,

  from the weight of Death,

  as it hangs above my sorrow-filled

  soul.

  It’s from the hurt that I feel,

  cause I know the deal,

  of Why –

  When a woman walks by,

  How my heart aches as it she steals,

  with her cat like ways,

  as her body does sway;

  I could watch her for days,

  as the sun does play, shining

  off her unimaginably beautiful face.

  Voice of Harpsichord grace,

  with hair that shimmery shines above,

  pretty eyes, covered in skin tones

  of smooth cold gold.

  From her speech, I’m just sold,

  On Her, to Her and for Her.

  If only she would know.

  If she could just take the time, to see -

  She would find – that, as I am told,

  She would simply become my world.

  And this is true, I tell you,

  this is what she can instantly do …

  Her beauty can find the will inside

  for a man to cry and feel justified.

  For a man to endure, this destructive world,

  For a man to rise; to rise above the fold.

  For a man to refuse to get a wink of sleep,

  For a man to work hard towards his dreams,

  For a man inside to find the light, or

  a man outside, to trade his life.

  A Woman’s beauty chases away all of men’s fears.

  Her beauty can make him stronger, smarter and feel

  younger in years.

  A Woman’s beauty punches a man in his stomach,

  makes him shake with waves of nervous snow.

  Her image can make a man feel inadequate, until it’s you

  he gets to know.

  A Woman’s beauty can unravels a man’s plans, shatter

  his carefully crafted mold back to that of a five year old.

  From the Beauty of You, You precious souls,

  It is your Beauty that has shaped this entire world.

  When a Woman shares her beauty with a man at night,

  and the connection between the two is right,

  this is the action that gives him all his might,

  to take on the world in a stand up fight.

  He’ll be the Soldier, who develops a sixth sense to return home.

  He’ll be the Doctor, who works harder than any other.

  He’ll be the Teacher, who envisions you in the classroom,

  Or maybe the Poet; writing you this heart-filled sonnet.

  But make no mistake about it,

  The Beauty of a Woman is a gift, which serves

  as more, than as just a covering of skin.

  It is the key to where all humanity can win.

  Because a man strides, a man conquers, just to find that one

  Beautiful Woman, the one who he can lay the

  spoils of plunder down at her feet.

  In hopes of calling her –

  His complete own.

  It’s never returned

  and she never cries

  No matter what I put out,

  it never comes back.

  My boomerang is broken

  and the return policy

  is null and void.

  She never cries, because

  she’s a tough little girl,

  in a beautiful shell,

  and full of herself,

  but not in a bad way.

  It’s never returned

  because, I must be cursed.

  Of course, that’s the

  reason. Because I say

  the wrong words,

  in the wrong seasons.

  Yet, she’s so beautiful,

  when she’s laughing,

  and talking,

  and walking.

  She’s brash and painted

  and delicate.

  She smokes,

  and jokes,

  and loves her

  puppy dog.

  I love her.

  But, it’s never returned.

  I can’t tell her,

  because she gets

  antsy and afraid.

  It’s beautiful when

  she cries. Because

  that’s a world all

  in of itself.

  And she never lets

  anyone see that.

  She let me see,

  and I believe,

  in her heart.

  Her will and her

  desire to change,

  to grow, to be

  a better person

  and to live a full

  life.

  She doesn’t want that

  with me, however.

  But the world is a two

  way street, and I love

  everything about her.

  So, it’s never returned

  to me.

  Oh God, send the Angel

  of Death quickly.

  I’ll even set out milk

  and cookies.

  As I’m just a long, lost

  loser blowing like a

  grain of sand in a

  storm around her.

  She cries, because

  she’s been hurt,

  and she’s given her

  heart,

  and she knows

  where she is.

  She is delicate, under

  all that scaffolding.

  She’s a work in progress

  trying to fall in love with

  herself,

  So she can love someone

  else.

  But, she won’t pick me.

  So, what I feel is never

  returned.

  It just burns, going on and

  on and on, like the unwatched

  comet.

  In a sea of blackened

  nothing.

  Nothing Romantic About the Pain

  Who knows what happens,

  When things go wrong.

  Who can say when the music bleeds,

  Dead away, from a song.

  And Rhythm no longer seems to move your feet,

  Food is tasteless every time you eat.

  A person’s smile makes you react as though it were a frown.

  Even the sun shining every day, seems to get you down.

  You look at yourself and can’t find your own face.

  You remember past loves and feel such disgrace.

  Were there hard words?

  Deception?

  Betrayal?

  Actions that made you curl,

  Like a snail?

  And creeps your mentality to a daily, conforming slow –

  Only you’ll know – and to attest; to the cloud in your head

  the pressure in your breast, of a heart that is continually breaking.

  Your body lies aching ... under covers, hiding from the world

  of reality, bending your mentality and wreaking havoc to woe.

  Reality – is this so?

  Is it reality or just the one you now must know?

  NO ! You truly don’t.

  Believe me – There’s nothing romantic about the pain.

  Nothing luminescent about constant rain – drizzling in your spirit.

  Get with it!

  You’re so young,

  So beautiful,

  So free,

  Just talk to me.

  Walk with me,

  Spar with me,
/>   Compare with me,

  Argue with me,

  Cry with me is you must –

  I’ll do all I can to help you crush,

  Those old bad memories to dust.

  I’d do my best to make permanent, your smile.

  And instill a repair of goodness for a while.

  I know – Me, you don’t need all,

  But while walking in darkness, isn’t light considered a friend to prevent your fall?

  How about a real person, - who an ear they’d gladly lend?

  Like a person who’d stick with you till the very, very end.

  Don’t let some good words – scare you away.

  For you, if you’ll let me, I’d be there to stay.

  No, no doormat rules here need to apply,

  Lift those pretty eyes up to the sky … and SMILE.

  I’m not much,

  Not rich,

  And definitely not pretty.

  But you ask me things so impossible to do,

  Such as forget and abandon you –

  Can’t do, sorry, not my creed.

  Can’t stick to surface subjects or passé feelings.

  I’m just too real.

  But, don’t fear,

  I won’t disrespect or overrun you –

  I just want you to know, for you – I’m simply here.