my love, I’d like to be a poet…

my love, I’d like to be a poet,
grand and brilliant and wise,
my love, I’d like to have a bit more,
then just a body I despise

my love, I’d like to write a book,
that would be oh - so successful,
my love, I’d like to have a future
that seems more than just distressful

my love, I’d like to be academic,
and read words upon words in my life,
my love, I’d like to have intellectual discussions,
and not alone with myself a strife

my love, I’d like to be oh - so beautiful,
with lips rosy and a pretty face,
my love, I’d like to catch your eye,
and have in your heart a place

my love, I’d like to find some peace,
some purpose, some happiness,
my love, I’d like to bring some calm,
inside my mind, that mess

My love, I’d like to be all yours,
but those are words that have been chewed,
in too many mouths, they lost their taste,
so I stay silent in my solitude

my love, do I have the right to call you that,
if you’ve never been a lover of mine,
with an aura so eerie and beautiful,
and a soul like sweet cherry wine

my love, I hope I am enough,
for you to love, for you,
and I hope my memory might never fade
into the unknown blue

my love, I hope, I love and like a lot,
and wish it to be true,
but honestly, I dream so much
because I need a way to get through

my love, I dream and wish and hope,
and imagine my perfect future,
but truth be told, I hardly know,
my way through current days torture

my love, I can’t tell you that you’re my sun,
for her fire is brutal and pained,
but the light you give, in my life at least,
burns away all the things that are stained.

my love, I’d like to be somebody,
and that’s the human thing to aspire,
but to be somebody I have to have,
a heart, a heart full of fire

My love, how do I tell the world,
that that fire long burned to ashes?
My love, how do I tell the world,
the world that left me with gashes?

My love, I fear that I’ll die unknown,
and I don’t think I’d be able to cope,
because my writing shows fragments of my soul,
the last ones left that are able to hope

my love, today it’s more than enough,
if you tell me I’m a poet,
and I need neither published book nor reviews,
in my heart, I feel and know it