She absorbs my energy like a black hole,
such that the internal reactions are unknown.
She could be such a beacon of light, I know,
If only she’d let herself glow
And illuminate the scripts that her soul makes
so that we could delight in the fruits conceived
when souls mate.
Maybe she thinks that these are tracks that only fools trace,
But sometimes the distinction between folly and wisdom is just a matter of taste.
© July 2014 Kelvin S. Pompey