to mend with gaze and longing

Life is so vividly absent without romance.

though i am inspired by others in a way that is tender, so reachable.

My work is still very much my own. I am sure of it.

do not forgive me for indulging in this,

for penmanship and borrowed words made my own require no forgiveness.

I will always long and reach for the kiss of my own words

resting on the tongue of another.

Once again i say, what is tenderness if not for a shared experience?

the most pleasurable and fulfilling excursions remain to be only

the things we are able to share with each other.

I am done with writing of supposedly and irredeemably doomed romance.

i only wish for the taste of rest and assuredness.

And it shall remain so.