You, my creation, my art,
you every throb...
I'm caught in the middle of a war...
A war with no correct side...
This body talks and interrupts
- my peace...
when birds glide down to Earth
to whisper in your ears...
The cat walk was bad enough
but at least it gave me a secure visual...
Around three in the morning
your soul was still fluttering...
It was so beautiful
the bouquet of emotion...
Oh Ben, where are you now?
I search for you within this site...
On rheumatic finger once slender and lithe,
Pearlescent gem still proudly resides...
she was overwhelming,
so you buried her away...
I never thought I could be
manipulated into anything...
I'd thought of you often,
how gentle your touch...