If I could pen the odes of old Victorian poets you'd surely love me again.
You'd understand my metaphors, craving me wholly just one more time.
I'd express the emptiness of my being without you and feel the warmth of yours filling me up.
Better yet, if I could just speak with their tongue you'd hear every ounce of romance I desperately wanted you to know.
My mouth would salivate with passion and pour desire into your seemingly deaf ears.
And even though I've read words from your heart that left a stain on mine, I've come to realize-you're unforgettable.
It makes me feel less of a fool, though, since it seems they too allowed theirs hearts to rule, not quite giving their minds the credit due.
Of all the words and ways to combine them, though, I've found none that compare to the words I practically screamed at you.
So, if those three words were never enough for you...I'm thinking maybe odes that compare to those poets' wouldn't be either.

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