Far Away

he calls her his lotus blossom and describes her kisses as sweet and bubbly champagne he hungers to hold her in the cold midnight to feel the warmth of her body next to his inhale the delicate fragrance of her perfume and entwine his fingers through long tresses that lay softly on her porcelain-like shoulders

she is his dream, a repetitive reverie of yore she is a déjà vu moment in the circle of time where she has always appeared too distant he is her best friend, confidante, her lover the one who shelters her in his adoration, gifts her with his trust and honest respect

the one man she aches to ardently embrace and kiss with the fervency of delayed desire the one whose voice melts her down, down into a sea of blue waves caressing her shore sweeping away all that had been written there he is an epiphany in a spiritual wilderness where he had once seemed too far away