Richard (the diminutive)

When he knocks,
My doors open
And I let him inside
For I am alive
By the power
Of his breath
That inhales
And exhales
In tune with mine

He kisses me,
Yet he has no lips
He fondles me,
Gripping me tightly
Yet he has no hands

Beauty redefined
His distinct touch
Ferries his intent to me
If I sleep, he woos me
Should the blaze of passion strikes
And revels in gregariousness
When I rise

And yes, I rise
And yes, I crumble
And yes, I rise
And yes, I crumble

I know him deeply,
Just as
He knows me deeply
From his many visit
To my halls

Until I’m done away
In colorific splendor

But he knows how to mend
when I falter

For with a gentle kiss
My doors open again


National Poetry Month Day 9

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