...Sad Soul... Poem by RIC BASTASA

i envy the hands that
touch your lips, your hands
actually,
you have been strict with
yourself
and too selfish not to have my
hands even caress your hair
as though Eros has no place in
your soul,
i beg you, in the uneasiness of my
soul, pacify me,
let me, at least, stay beside you,
allow my shyness to overcome itself,
allow my finger to wipe the blood
in your lips,
allow me to heal that wound,
sad soul.