Ode to 1892

Here I sit,

Tangled in our hue,

I write my deepest sorrows

Only for you.

Our love will be mistaken,

Often overlooked.

We were never deemed to be lovers

So I leave for you,

Within the margins of our books,

We pass back and forth,

I encrypt my love for you,

Scrawling within every page,

I love you,

I love you,

I love you.

I shelter my yearning for you,

Hidden in the cracks.

For it won't be for another century,

We can demand our love back.

So I write my ode to you,

My lover and best friend.

From the dimples on your cheeks,

To the braids cascading down your back.

Flushed flesh I press my fingertips on,

dresses that hug your hips.

Honey that I taste,

With every kiss.

They will erase us from history,

Burning down our love.

To them our love meant nothing,

Until the new dawn embraces the women I am so fond of.