Enchantment



Caught in a moment, unaware,
I was yours just as surely
as if you had cast a magic spell,
spun with glistening tears,
upon me.


My soft prayers have been
that this enchantment never end.
You've spun a silver web of beauty,
enfolding me in this gossamer net,
and I've surrendered gladly,
loving you the way that I do.


I am dependent on those moments
we have together, spellbound
by the pleasure of your company.
I delight completely in your charm
when you choose to be captivating,
and am still lost to you irrevocably
even when you do not.


I see you come through the door.
My heart leaps with an adrenalin jolt.
I wear my love and pride like an amulet.
You cradle and stroke me with your words.
They seem wrested from deep in your soul,
and you are potent masculinity,
barely constrained, raw sexuality.


I give myself up to the memories
your words evoke, those memories
so precious to me, I read them
like a daily litany.
My doubts and misgivings
pour over me in a torrent.


Those love words are a part of our past
even though I don't want them to be,
even though I long for them to be
a part of our present, our future.


I ache for the beckoning, inviting
moments of love that flowed over us
like a benediction, your face buried
in the warm, soft valley between my breasts,
nuzzling gently, your whiskers rasping
softly on my tender flesh.


I don't want distance between us,
but I can't close it alone either.
If you'd only listen to me when I tell you
how wonderful you are, how tender, loving,
giving, when you let yourself be.


You become cocky, brash, full of yourself,
starched like a ramrod with stiff-necked pride.
You become implacable in a stand-off way
that only wounds us both, and I fear those
bewitching moments from our past
will never again be.


Have I been spoiled
because we have had so much,
because it has been so wonderful,
like heaven on earth to me?
Maybe.


The strings that bind us,
they capture love,
flow from me to you
and back again
if you'll let them.


I hope for fiery words
of love and passion.
Instead I get the word 'numb'.
The more desperate I get for
a loving gesture, a tender touch,
the more distance there is
between me and what I need most.
So much for baring a soul.


I've never meant my loving
to be a burden to you. I still don't.
I've always hoped it was a gift,
something that I gave you
that enriched your life.


I've never wanted my love to hurt you.
I always wanted it to be something
that uplifted you, healed you,
made you complete and whole,
and, My Love, I still do.


This must be an enchantment
because I'm still entranced
by the excitement that grabs hold me
each time I share a few moments with you.


Love, Jody