Poetry

Is poetry the flow of love?
That trembles of the tongue
Into a desire of greatness
Enchanting fantasies
My take on writing poetry
It leaks from emotions
That was once bruised
Healing in a way that cant hide
What the eye can’t see.
Words have ways of saying
More then an actual gesture.
I am a poetess.
I am a whore in love with words
I make love to it when ever it
Enchants the desires
That bestows me.
That burning desire that it
Tempts you daily.
It’s my crack that keeps me up
At night,
Burning the midnight oil
As the love making
Of two individuals
Explore each other’s bodies.
Trembling of passion.
My words speak of desire,
Of feeling that high
That neither human can fill.
Poetry is a temptation
I crave in the hours of
Desperation and desire.
I snuggle up to it
While I sit endless hours
As the words tumbles out of me.
What human desires cant I feel?
That I give it over to the lovemaking
Of words that jumble and touch each other.
All these might just be words pouring
Out of my mind as I touch the
Keypads on my keyboard
Lingering word after word.
What desires doesn’t poetry fills
In my life.
When I spread my power through.