Wednesday, 6 January 2016


Most times she leads
and he follows.
She does the talking,
she wears the halo,
She creates a story,
He writes it down.
She is poetry
and the sea
and he drowns.
But sometimes
she conforms
to words alone.
She longs for a story unknown
She waits
while he writes.
She stays in sight
and watches over his shoulder
as he writes with pen, old
and paper older.
She watches 
and the night gets colder.
And after the words have been sewn
into paper that could be torn,
he turns to look
and finds his queen
fit for a throne.
And her smile outshines the stars of the night
no woman could dare put up a fight
she follows this time
she conforms
to his words alone
this story he's written
a tale too well known.
She leans in and places poetry on his lips
just the way he makes love to paper with his finger tips
He gave up on writing poetry long ago
he realized writing her was the right way to go. 
Most times she leads
and he follows
and tonight into the bedroom too
he is led behind her to follow.

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