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"Teresa's Portion"
by Jeph Johnson
certain segments
(reserved for love)
in each of our lives
are fragmentations
fabrication
cannot provide
time reserved
for endearment
artificially simulated
tends
(no matter how devout)
to be superficially stimulated
I aspire to love to love
though,
in essence,
it is lust
bartered forced acceptance,
certainly not trust
for me,
my muse,
mistress
or masturbatory mate's
counterfeit enchantment
cannot eradicate
cries close to death
within my heart
that well-up deep inside
I modify my thought process
by looking in their eyes
but I see your emerald eyes
still slicing
anxious years away
and regress to when your stare
would soak all my tears away
