My Pensive Heart
by Deborah E. Kirkpatrick
Pain wells up within me, pain inflicted by my own pensive heart.
A heart lovelorn for the phantom lover of its dreams to come to life.
How can my heart be so pensive and full of grief for a love it has never known?
Perhaps someday such a love will be.
A love who is strong enough to cry.
Yes, a love who is strong enough to cry and let me comfort her at my breast.
A love who can comprehend the pain in my heart.
A love who will share in that pain and even shed a tear for it;
Thus, removing it from me, dispersing it like leaves in the wind.
I desire a love who will expose the very sense of her being to me.
Knowing that I am a starving soul ready to devour her soul and flesh,
As though they were luscious pieces of sweet succulent fruit, to nourish my starving soul.
I savor the sweetness and hoard it deep within my soul for safekeeping.
Oh, where is the love that will open her heart and invite me in?
Allowing me to share, not only in the joys and laughter, but in the pain and tears as well.
A love who will invite me in - into the inner realms,
Entrusting me with those secret dreams and fears.
A love who will treasure, as I, the endearing times of lovemaking
As we savor every caress - every kiss,
And the feel of every touch beneath our fingertips!
A love who desires me to make love to her entire being,
Her complete being, not just her outer physical being.
Oh, how I crave such an intimacy!
Is such an intimacy possible?
Is it possible that the only being who will ever be able to fill this craving within me....
Is my heart's own phantom lover?
The theme song you hear is, "Summer of '42"