I don’t  mind waiting;
Painting pictures ;
Illusions about making love  with you.
Few would argue or hold as true ,
Such circumspect evidence,
the relevance of which may well be suspect;
Void of respect for feelings.
Reeling figments flashing through my mind.
In those places where I find my solitude
And hear my conscience's clear voices.
My choices?
Stand and fight ?
Flee ?
Or could I be freed  of all social conventions?
Or the retention of ancient norms
No longer pertinent to me nor to my life?
I'll wait
While fate makes up her fickle mind.
Perhaps I'll find rhyme and reason,
Treason against fact and reality.
Defiance in the face of alliances;
Silence amidst the cacophony of the life that we elect to live.
Is it sin? 
Then, let me  sin again.
I see your disdain.
So, you  tell me  to refrain from overt flirtation;
Lest  I stray from the straight and narrow;
Harrowed yet on hallowed ground.
Well found in the sentiments of the society
In which we chose to live,
And give
All that we are or who we could be.
Free, perhaps,
But for a single dance.
No chance for romance nor that futile, lustful flutter.
Mutters under the breath;
Un pettit mord ; the Small death - those moments away from you;
The acrimony and the anxiety; to be free;
To see, hear and to touch life.
To know strife and to be comfortable in her presence.
The very essence of being;
Seeing life as it really is;
The chasm between death and reality;
Between being one with all
Or simply enthralled by the frivolity of days that pass;
Glasses raised in toasts.
Mostly to life and love.
Indeed. I don't mind waiting,
For you.