Cabot O’Callaghan is a lover and a poet. Perhaps there is no difference.
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Head
Heels
True love
Soul mate
I can scoff no longer at these words
A subtle fragrance lingers
When pondered
The scent undeniable
Surely explainable
Am I drunk—
A buzz of emotion that will pass?
Am I struck by blessed fate—
Heart’s doubt slain at last?
When my mind
Wanders the Plains of What If
Crosses the River of Why
There is no solace
You’re the first
And the last
As eye’s curtain draws open
And at sleep’s edge
I think of you
In my head but not my bed
I want to lie beside you
Watch your chest rise and fall
And fit to your curves
I want to be inside you
Your fingers digging into my back
My teeth on your neck
All we have is now
Let’s not squander it
What was, what will
Places we cannot be
Photo—Lieven Van Melckebeke/Flickr