Miss Lang Lee'av

The will that drives
this great ascension,
is found aside
their ill intentions.

Though they hide,
they deserve a mention,
for each have brought me
to his attention.

The curves
in her words,
the strokes
linked in his’
the lines
that converge,
into lips
inked in kisses.

To new beginnings
in fear and faith
and all it tinges.

To love is a dare,
when hope and despair
are gates upon it hinges.

The solution
is neither
further nor nearer,
like a mirror,
of a mirror,
of a mirror.

The sum
of your great intentions,
of things not yet begun,
when measured with
what has been done,
all add up to none.

He will refuse a penny
for his thoughts.
When posed a theory
he will have naught.
To find his thinking
is more said than done.
Much like a dentist
extracting teeth out
one by one.

To love him
    is something
    I hold
    highly suspicious.

Like having something
    so very delicious,
    then being told
    to do the dishes!

He makes me turn,
    he makes me toss.
His words mean mine
    are at a loss.
He makes me blush!
He makes me want
    to brush and floss.

She cannot sit,
    she cannot stand,
    she cannot stand it!

Another second,
    another minute,
    without you in it!

When words run dry,
    he does not try,
    nor do I.
We are on par,
    he just is
    I just am
  and we just are.