Reach

He is . . . so out of my reach And his words are like royalty to my eyes He cradles them like he’s dealing delicate roses Spreading them out on a dirtied, lightly lit street Obscure words. . .that make my spine tingle In a certain. . .pleasure, I find me back again Crawling into the crevices of his luminous lines Only to fall under them, holding onto the words That I am able to. . .reeeeach! My heart is filled with comfort when I return He neither catches me nor harms me But allows me to hang on each time Using my own strength. . . my own passion to twine But against the odds, I willingly fall Upon even more piles of words Words I have come to relate to deeply And words that have conquered me oh so completely The wars of my mind cease to fight as I read The first lines, till the end—I feed I willingly eat and consume fire and earthy nutrients Engorging like a lion on its prey Never really getting enough…nor leaving enough I take all in and wither away. . . Reaching for the lines soon to come