by Janice Scott-Reeder
Were you but the president of this great land,
I could have made small talk for hours on end;
been witty, charming, a bit flirty and sexy,
though that I'd need to keep in check;
kept you entertained for time and eternity.
But instead I found myself undone,
no role to play, the curtain down.
No easy dialogue came to mind,
as you saw the naked heart of me,
my knees so weak, my head turned 'round.
There was no place for me to hide,
As in your eyes, I say myself.
Your movements were a mirror of me;
the masculine version of this woman child:
two halves of the same crystal face.
Reduced to a frightened child,
afraid to run: afraid to speak.
Frightened to touch the passion within.
Scared to death of the passion with out.
We each hid within our shells.
Come back to me, my perfect mirror.
Let us not hide within the shadows.
Release the love frozen in our hearts.
Trust me as I trust myself,
never to deceive or intentionally hurt.
Let us for the first time in our life,
reach out and show with honesty,
hold another next to our skin,
shed the roles we've always played,
come together in truth and joyful pain.
Let me spend a life or moment,
enveloped in your gentle touch.
Release the spirit of my passion.
Let us delight in sensual pleasures,
and see each day as a new beginning.
Although we are the same in spirit,
we'll never bore exploring our selves.
And when time wears down these bodies,
we'll delight in each other's mind,
and exhalt in each simple pleasure.
Should the tears I've shed form a deep blue sea,
and my hopes be dashed upon life's jagged rocks.
Should my heart be shattered into a thousand shards,
each small fragment a reflecting mirror shall be
of the love and passion I have felt for thee.