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Passions in Poetry

Someone Else’s Lady

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Mark Spark
New Member
since 01-23-2009
[First Post] 1


0 posted 01-23-2009 07:11 PM       View Profile for Mark Spark   Email Mark Spark   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Mark Spark

She accepted my invitation,
to enter my home,
hints of aimless consternation
followed by hesitation in her first steps,
she pressed heel after heel into the carpet,
her eyes scrape over every object she sees,
then with a bend of the knees,
quietly she rests in a cozy nook on a leather sofa,
that nearly engulfs her,
tiny figure,
a fragile feminine frame,
but after drinks and dinner,
she oozes back into the wrinkles of the leather,
relaxed?
perhaps or slacked with shame,
her lips are rosy and her eyes glimmer,
musical sounds surround us in an aura,

like a doe trotting through a forest,
she's a beautiful visitor to my neck of the woods
but in my mind it’s understood,
that she’s someone else’s lady,
no, not really someone’s lady now,
clearly,
well not anymore,
how?
verily they’ve long parted ways,
days ago… if years were days.
but some place there is a man that misses her dearly,
her beautiful smile eerily,
seems to smile at someone else,

she told me it was,
a passionate love affair,
that fell from the air,
burning like a ball of flame,
crashing into hate,
splitting the two apart like pieces of debris,
but it was he who originally rescued her from loneliness,
held her up to the sky like holiness,
and when she was down,
he helped her open up
and implanted confidence,
with complements, love, and devotion,
he’s a picture that hangs on the wall,
of her consciousness,

he was her first kiss, her first time
and her only love,
obvious is her distraction,
she drifts away for a fraction of a second,
her heart beckons,
knowing he’s the only man alive
that will risk his life
to have her as his wife..
but she still refuses to be by his side,
why!?

And all this gnaws at my conscience,
my mind vomits worry and jealousy
upon my self-confidence
and I promise I never want to be shady,
but now I see in her eyes,
that she’s someone else’s lady.

cuddled by the fire,
her breasts are plump,
her skin is soft,
her scent is sweet,
my flesh is filled with desire,
but something is off
in my head, oddly
I feel like I’m in someone else’s body,
if she’s leaves I won’t grieve.
for it is better to give her back to him,
than to receive false passion
if I fall for a woman who loves another,
then I will grieve,
smothered,
my heart will bleed,
so with reluctance and pain indeed,
I strain to slowly detangle our arms,
help her with her coat,
and walk her to the door,

- Mark Spark


[This message has been edited by Mark Spark (01-24-2009 09:03 AM).]

© Copyright 2009 Mark Spark - All Rights Reserved
 
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