Dwell the Color of the Rose

I walk to the corner

the obsession for her

forces me to see

pure beauty,

to compare her,

the color of that rose

dark, red, violet,

her lips incite my passion

Deep rose colored lips,

form with a sheepish smile

that turns dreams into nightmares

then into beautiful fantasies. 

Never ending torture

my need, want, and ability 

Always to reach that point

never get to that inch

to transverse to obtain

most desire

that touch of you tenderness

my timid skin only desires

to attract and not repel 

catiousness for perfection

point of neccesity only withdraws

all from behind

Lost in the need

all that she is

tries and sees

the air behind me

My prescence is of pity

her smile

forced opposition for generosity.