Poetry

How a Man Feels a Woman

By Allen Ginnett

 

 

I can feel them,

Like they can feel me.

All so beautiful, so sensitive.

Glossy eyed, full of thoughts

And ideas, that I, a man

Would never think of.

They are everything,

We are not,

And vice versa.

To some they are vice,

So very nice…

I’m numb to your eyes,

I cry.

She’s beautiful.

When she’s mean, she’s means

And when she’s lean, she leans.

She cares so much more

Then I’ll ever know.

She’s scared,

I wonder…

Will I ever grow?

And to think,

Like a clock…

Another second, minute, hour,

They all pass by.

The closer you are,

The more my mind blurs,

And mends with yours.

My instinct is to say,

This is the cure.

But I don’t want to be wrong

That’s my fear.

It’s clear,

I must push

So far, yet so close

The spectrum moves within itself.

And there you are.

Just like me

But light years too far.

Is it all just fun and games?

The difference between sun and shade,

Can you feel my rays?

When I think you can see my thoughts

But the telekinesis is light and…

Gets lost,

In the grid of under and overstanding, love and hate, real and fake, give and take.

Shift my shape,

And make me yours.

Look me in the eye,

And make me sure.

To the core,

She is beautiful.

I am happy.

Now laugh, now smile, to love.

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