YEARNING

Yearning inside the glass dome, where does it go, this tight bud of rose?
Drawing me toward a finding, a loss, remorse coupled with pleasure.
Transcending me, you, us, it seems to seek a peace.
She plays a game, spreading the warm ache of desire.

The petals open, one by one, then the many falling to the floor of my heart.
Finding the precious balance of need and awakening seems so far away.
Departing my mind, coupling, searching through the debris no answers found.
She plays a game, spreading the warm ache of desire.

Lost in the proceeds of giving, receiving, where does it end in the night?
Is betrayal there, looking in your eyes for answers to the unasked.
Shouting out words of abandonment, I am only here for awhile.
She plays a game, spreading the warm ache of desire.

Wounds to be found full of fear and cries of passion seeking promises untold.
Tears from underneath canvassing the light of my soul for the creation of what?
Beginning an ending, bereft, failing to forgive the ending of our transparency.
She plays a game, spreading the warm ache of desire.

Pieces fall, are replaced, not found, wound up tight in the search for blame.
Not here, never were, bound up in the sounds of those left behind.
Reaching deep into a lonely shell of regret and renewal, time passes away.
She plays a game, spreading the warm ache of desire.