By Marcus King


I wish I could draw

And capture the awe of your aura

With lines and strokes

The symphony of your symmetry with chords and notes.

I’m left incomplete,

Wanting more like a junkie

You are a mystery of beauty.


My pen would make love.

We’d start at your frontal cortex

The context, the framework

To see how your brain works.

How thoughts fall like dew droplets

Like Cadbury chocolate

Chips on your shoulder.


Let’s run down your nose to the fragrance of falling in love

So flush, so red.

Find me in bed love sick and chasing the trip

From your lips.

I’m an oral artist.

I can’t capture with paint the colour of your life

But with the right words your fineness cannot be denied.


Back to your lips.

Sugar, honey nor cinnamon can’t compare to your kiss.

Your tenderness,

Your bliss which paints smiles across my face as I reminisce.

Let’s make music with our sighs of satisfaction.

Let’s finger the chords as we entwine our hands

And tie our hearts together.

I don’t want to be freed.


I’m inspired until I’m tired

Until I’m tired thinking about you.

Until my thousand words come through

And we’re left to live.


Let me fall from your neck to your chest

Let me rise again till there’s nothing left

This is more than skin deep

I love all that you’ve given me

But it’s left me hungry. Starved

And satisfied. This paradoxical state where I

Think outside the box to make you free

To know me.


I’ve got cold feet but I don’t fear.

Let’s run from here but we’re not scared.

If I could breathe you in I’d forsake air

I’d reject water to drink from your lips

And tongue

Until I become strong.

Stronger than the lions trying

To devour you.


Call me David as I shower you

With the war in my blood

And the love in my lungs

And take down Goliath.


A thousand years can’t compare to the one word you’ve left behind

In my mind.


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