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memories of lovers run through my mind
tears run down my face
as i remind myself that
it's better to have loved and lost
than never to have loved at all
some loves were mere excuses to be held
some were never lovers at all
but affairs to ease my pagan soul
i yearn for someone to hold me
and kiss my forehead
an outward expression
of our inner faiths
a true r lust
a love on the inside
as pure as a white candle
and innocent as a child in a grass field
as mature and wise as an old sage
whose crazy mumblings are
decipherable only to the angels
my true love who will hold me
and kiss my forehead
as he wipes the tears from my eyes
my heart will burn
untamed by wax or wick
and those tears
will be of love