The Things an Eighteen Year Old Will Write

*Blows off the dust*  I cannot believe that is been almost ten years since i penned this, and yet again it feels like a lifetime ago.

Merry Go Round Dreams

He came to me all in a day,
from a time and place so far way.
Want me he did ,
but from him I hid
afraid to face the offer he gave.
Fearful he'd steal me away from all that I knew.
By and by his overtures bludgeoning me,
tripping through my mind,
deliberately seeping into my heart
all day long.
Even as a lie down to bed
glided gently into Morpheus' grasp
he remained in my head.
Vivid,
alive
as the very stars,
scintillating in the pitch sky.
Wraith-like
his frail frame,
in the saddle atop is wooden steed.
Dark as night,
bounding across the recesses of my mind.
Spinning, whirling,
the closer he came
the stronger his beckonings were.
Eyes as brown and soft as old beach glass,
stared from between thickets of long lashes.
Very dark eyes,
windows
into an even darker soul.
Like pools of cool water
on a long summers day.
His smile,
full rose cupid's bow pout,
like warm sunshine playing through the
fresh spring foliage.
Sweet and shy.
As he neared
aware I became of his hair,
its beauty.
Tumbling over his shoulders,
like rivulets of nearly raven tigereye.
Spiraling, twisting
in loose curves and rings,
framing his face in all its soft glory.
A fine boyish face,
forlorn
smooth as ice cream,
with a slight nose.
In the saddle
embellished with tiny shards of mirror
his tenuous form rested.
Atop his grand steed
the tone of black satin,
its neck elegantly curved,
hair as untamed as its rider.
Graceful its body,
just like its rider.
His fine hands
resting on fine legs
dangling along powerful midnight flanks.
Above them his body,
lean and compact,
sitting in the saddle like that of a prince.
His cries now tearing at my heart,
invading my soul.
But still I do not wish to go,
to fall into that hole.
Want me he still does
from him I still hide.
Though when I awoke
a piece of my heart he did break,
and take
a ransom
to lure me back,
by and by,
day in and day out.


Here is it warts and all, about someone from my past who will remain unnamed for all eternity unless he comes here and reveals himself, which thankfully seems unlikely.