you said you'd turn me on
if i told you my desires
i whispered your name
-----
a dying poet
cares less for the end of days
than the end of words
-----
he's tried so often
to write words that tell the world
how much he's loved her
-----
the beauty's in you
you're the one who cannot see
what i try to reveal
-----
poet writes outside the lines
defies tradition
-----
with sweet ink she writes
poetry upon petals
meant to be tasted
-----
i long to hold you
have you stay within my arms
forever and more
-----
she is too open
for the others to accept
so she turns to me
-----
at others' beck and call
I've never belonged to me
wanted for who i am
-----
made aware so often
i accept my worthlessness
in the eyes of the world
-----
once wrote poetry
it began to sadden me
so the urge left me
-----
the last thing i love
has now become a burden
i can no longer bear
-----
wait beside the tracks
for the train that never comes
the one bearing love
----
no one can give me
what the fates have so decreed
will never be mine
-----
a whole life I've spent
wishing for someone to care
but it's too late now
Donovan Baldwin
Thank you, Susan.