Pure as much . . .

Would you? Momentarily
pull me in close, stem
the void of noise, imbue upon
me the soft silence of
sanctuary. Validation,
such an annoyance of
need, desired yet stubborn
denial, fierce, yet. . .
vivid rainbow of chaos
hides pale technicolor
aura. I am gentle as
much fierce, soft as
much hard, pure as much
erotic. Paused breath
I breathe in silent wisps
reading the world through
silent eyes. Would you?
Hold me as the Sun ascends,
descends, glittered trails
of desire lost in woken’s
wake, I hear now the
ebbing flow of life’s
ethereal lake, and some days,
some days I am the lioness,
the wolf, the flames of Hells
fire and the essence of
desire that burns
within me. But other days
I am merely the falling
petals of the tuberose
delicate, fragrant,
pure, essence lost without
protection from the
elements.

Karen Hayward (c)2017
Image and words