Lovers Star Cross’d?

Are we lovers star cross’d?

Are you the east?

A plague upon both our houses?

Or Hmong Key?
Perhaps, am I just dark matter?
Never to be seen?
For surely you have become my universe,
And I willing slave,
To the forces of your nature,
Stunning enchantment,
As your charm, alluring, entreats me,
Ever more deeply,
To recesses of my soul those have longed,
To be awoken,
And now no longer desire sleep,
Giant  poet,
Answering the clarion call,
Of she,
Of you,
Am I awake,
Scribo ergo sum,
But you are a dream,
Are you not?
You must be…

A dream of a dream,
The illusion of my mind,
Come to me only to vanish,
Inside the allusion of my hearts incapacity,
In this case,
To compromise,
For in your eyes,
My oracle,
I can see a future,
One long contemplated,
Of once upon a time,
And happily ever after.
However, I am no prince,
Merely a destitute writer,
Who beholding your glass slipper,
Has become a bumbling fool,
Babbling, rambling, shouting out,
My equivalent;

“R O S E B U D…”

I long to be a citizen of you,
With loving grace,
Paying tribute,
To the glowing presence that is…


I aspire,
To this, my desire,
Of divine inspiration,
Kiss me, as Plath would say,
And you will find out  how important I am.


Nigh pleading with the universe,
For one more moment,
To be intoxicated by your spirit,
Perchance to convince you,
That this dream,
Can be,
Should be,
Lived in every moment, of every day,
In every way…
Revealing to the world,
What we already know,
No longer hiding in the shadows of the night,
Rather shining brightly,
Capulet and Montague,
Together as one, in an ages old

For you are Muse
And I am,
Destitute writer,



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