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Click hereShall I speak the truth and be heard? Listen
and understand with disbelieving ears,
for I speak the truth, indisputable
as sunsets and true north, if other's sun
sinks upon a different horizon
and world turns on a separate pivot,
sensible only to them, I will state
my truth and not standing their weak dispute,
my claim is true or I am not myself
and deny my own face in the mirror,
as the mad know not themselves, but being sane,
barring hesitation, I will say it,
you are beautiful, as beauty was created for you,
as you were formed and crafted to be the mold of beauty,
to be the key which fits every lock,
opening doors as you pass,
and all who look upon you are held, unable to turn,
knowing not and caring not
why they no longer control the object of their attention,
feeling only the hunger no food can feed
and the thirst, no drink can wet,
and I am the humming bird drawn to the crimson blossom,
but not for the beauty of scarlet petals
which only signify the sustenance in the sweet liqueur
born deep in the bloom, but because I must,
just as the flower twists on its stem
drawn to follow the Sun's arc overhead.
I extend my tongue, hoping to taste the air in your trail,
the never bottled perfume, brewed from the alchemy of your skin,
the transmutation of flesh into love, the reduction of my will,
for to say I will this is to say I will to breath,
and I cannot will to not breath
as the will submits to the need,
as a suicide leaps smiling into the river,
to spend his last breath clawing back to the surface,
it is all beyond my will, it is my must,
my lust to be the wave which washes you off the beach
into the surf and embrace you as the ocean holds the shore,
to be the earth and open a chasm under your feet,
dropping deep inside, closing over, sealing us as one body.
This reads to me like something akin to Shakespeare in modern language only spoilt by the typo of 'breath' instead of 'breathe'
Overall there's a breathless quality from reading all this, image after image, confession after confession, subtle rhyme here and there-- and I like that, a lot. Still I think there's too many weeds in with the flowers and it all needs an edit. Imo you could lose a lot of unnecessary or repetitious (in idea, not language) stuff and the essence of this poem would come across stronger than it does in this iteration. That's just my opinion and one I feel in response to many of my own poems, but you should try it and see what you get.
to find the punctuation format you opted for didn't detract from this paean to a beloved. instead, i found it moved me on through the images, the sensations... with the one exception being here:
as the mad know not themselves, but being sane,
barring hesitation, I will say it,
i would suggest that last comma calls for a colon as you then launch into what you/your narrator would say.
a few typos, bronze: other's sun (should that be others'? i'm uncertain), and you have 'breath' on two consecutive lines that i think ought to be 'breathe' in both instances.
there are two images i find truly striking, bronze; ones that almost take me aback they are so vivid.
I extend my tongue, hoping to taste the air in your trail
as a suicide leaps smiling into the river,
I'm sure others might have suggestions as to how to improve this in places but, for me, right now, it leaves me only with the sense of 'oh, to be loved that way'. that's a reader-reaction, not a critter's :p