infatuation

Her true identity

I'm starting to think
this "Her"
I'm eagerly waiting for
is not actually a person ,

I thought

"I'll dedicate a page
of my journal,
a work of art
to my future lover"

and then

"but what if we end up
in troubles of the heart?
will I feel bitter about it
never to be able to drink
from its Heavensent
romance indulging honey?"

Then I thought I would eventually
re-use it, see it differently
for the one that comes after
and it
hit me.

What I'm making this
shrine for
is not a physical manifestation
it's not a being, or creature.

It is to the ideal of the romance
that I ethereally long to have.

Her is the feeling I get at night.
Her is desire, passion, perfection,
sensory ecstasy, visual exhilaration
heart overwhelm.

Her is what shines
transpires
exudes
off these poems.

Her is what comes to mind
when my hands need for others
my lips require others
my touch calls out
for Her to caress,
when my senses need filling,
complement.

Her is the feeling
of being wanted,
looked at.

Seeing women pass
who, oblivious,
steal my eyes
and make them theirs.

Beautiful photography, soft colors, delicate collarbones, see through shirt, back, lace bra.

Her is
finding a lovely feather
and comparing
the bird that shed it
to love.

Her is
the sheer excitement
of a small faraway bird
looking deeply into my eyes,

or the appreciation
when a flower opens
as I touch it.

Revitalizing
Invigorating
Intoxicating
Thrilling
Blinding
Exhilarating
Infatuating
Elevating

Her is the goal of
happy times and
romantic memories worth keeping
which is an overly high achievement
for a single human to help me complete.

Sept 21st 2019