The next man that loves me.

The next man that loves me…

He has to want to read my work.

He’ll have to want to stumble on the rocks that lay on the edges of my shore,

fall into the waters, let them take him off to sea.

The sea - 

where tired waves turn into yearning ones,

Where the land is far behind the horizon,

& yet, he’ll dive into the unknown,

let the violent waves above die as he plunges into me.

The next man that loves me, 

He’ll see me in my depths.

These waters I have learned to swim in,

I’ve learned to dance.

I’ve made them my skirt & twirled into a vortex,

Taking everything around me in happy destruction.

In painful creation.

My heart is here….

Here between the letters & the words that turn into phrases which rhyme, crescendo & die into a hymn that’s too difficult to tap to because there’s too much meaning to the

pauses.

……..the spaces.

the dot dot dot.

The next man that loves me,

He has to want to swim.

He has to want to see my soul.