CAMELOT FANTASIES

In such a complicated way, like a rose in full bloom, but with one pedal stuck through with a thorn. I hunger for love, like a baby so clinging to it's mothers breast, suckling for fear of losing the nourishment it provides. 

I've found it in so many ways, fondled by it's nearness, struck by it's cupid intentions. So close but ever so far, it resisted me, fought with me, left me often, yet again, I always felt it wanted me as I wanted it.

Why do others find love and live wrapped in passion for their entire lives, while many of us just get a glimpse of love, a mild taste of it, an alluring fondness for it as it blows away from us like a hurricane trying to escape from us.

Oh why is love so elusive and bent on deceiving me into wanting it so? I've cried for it, lost for it, sorrowed in deep melancholy over the loss of LOVE, fearful of it, sick for it, and very fearful of it.

Touched by love many times, love isn't physical, it's a deep meeting of souls, who spin in time forever, never leaving each others side.

Respecting and appreciating just being human together and honest. looking deeply into each others souls, seeing the reflection from the soul, knowing that this is home, this is where we want to be forevermore. 

I weep for such a love, a soul mate never found, the friendships I've enjoyed, being open like a book, turning every page and not missing any dialogue of my life, why? what intentions did I have, was I being a fool, a coward, afraid to really be what I share or was I a deceiver and a petty thief, trying to steal another's heart, her soul and toss the passion aside, keeping just the tender words we share nothing more.

I have been torn apart with love, never really knowing the true meaning of it, maybe lust was interpreted by me as love? thinking that a woman is simply that, a physical being, nothing more but a vessel for me to enter at will and release the emptiness from my soul. Oh sweet love, why hast thou cast me aside, forsaken and buried me in the muck and mire of the dammed.

Maybe there is hope for a poet who's years are entering the senior ones. Can he find the purest and truest, deepest felt passion from another, even for just a little while, the scent of a woman lingers nearby, yet the light years of deep feeling is untouchable and unreachable in my sphere so I keep close to my heart "Somewhere In Time" we may find each other.