Playing with words,
I wrap myself
around your finger.
Teasing myself with phrases,
that will never be,
tantalizing myself with letters
that will never write themselves
into experience.
Words behind words,
I scribble to the page,
in an effort to free my mind,
yet still, my heart is not free.
No matter how long I write,
there will be no end,
it’s all just one on going poem,
that wraps itself continually,
around your finger.