I am
The periphery of your sight.
The nameless face in a turbulent sea.
I am the watcher.
The one who waits
With boiling expectation.
Like a kettle too full
Of potion,
I’m in danger of spilling
And spreading to your feet.
I know you
As I know myself,
Though you are full of intrigue,
I am full of desires
You’d never care to unravel.
I harbor inside of my chest
Beneath my ribs
A fire that burns.
You are the agent
Of my combustion.
While this conflict rages inside of me
I am composure
I am contentment
I am constitution
I am calm
But I am waiting…
Always waiting
For your undivided gaze
To discover me.
I am the picture
of patience
and slow calculation.
You are a prize to savor.
To wait for.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love this intriguing write! ! ! ! Leaves the reader with a feeling of expectation for what I'm not quite sure! Maybe just more wonderful poems? Nicely done! ! ! !