Love, Lotus ...

it took me three long hot summers
to finally look her in the
temple and whisper the melodies
of a love yet lost tenderly
against her earlobes;
to speak
accented baritone memories
into her throat;
to fill her chest with
the breath of longing, wanton
lyrical odes to the life we were destined
to lead;
my magnum opus.

my modus operandi: to become the
opposite of her father;
the least i could do,
every time she would arch her back
in response to my ego teasing
her sanctum,
was to draw for her an alternate
reality -
each stroke changing history.

it was her choice
to call me daddy.

her kisses tell me the secrets
her eyes conceal.
i wish i could slay the ghosts
that haunt her dreams,
that cause her dead stares, her
silent cries.

[i wish i wasn't one.]