To Make it Real

so sweet wrapped in bed sheets she beckons me 
back to the solace of her arms,   sweet salve 
her embraces and affections saying 
something about jack being dull   .  .  .   o, love! 
I have ambitions.   what prize would I be 
for you were I to set aside my self 
forget those aspirations for a cuddle 
or even a sweet hour’s sweaty pleasure? 
too long the years of dissipation stack 
on my soul;   time to earn the bread and spread 
the table with all good things   —   to honor your 
love,   I would build a life and offer firm 
security even should it mean an end 
to what yesterday defined this poet’s life.


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