Craftsmen

How I must say, I am not opposed, to your warm touch close by the fire.
I say my breath has been taken by such gentle piercing words so softly spoken.
My desire aroused and interests awakened I wonder, should caution not be taken.
To see right through me in so few encounters, leaves me feeling exposed and shaken.
Survival an instinct cruelly honed, I shy from soft touch, connection and trust.

Seek nothing more from me than a passing dream, a kiss and fleeting love.
I am a Craftsman of my maker, a seeker of lust.
With in my heart wraiths a storm of what love should be and what love has become.

Carnal Lust by cranial stimuli, my words still shaken, my breath still taken.
Tell me dear of hearts you've left broken, as I have laid many to shatters.
My core empty and broken, I seek love and affection if only to mask my affliction.

With time all things will heal, but some wounds are deep and bone I feel.
Tell me my dear, of your heart left broken, how the pain left unspoken.
Why i tell you this, a woman I desire of my broken heart, to sore to desire,
 yet you've seen through me, in to me.

Perhaps this all tells you of the cautions i am taking,
for my heart is not as strong as my spirit.
Tread lightly, though I feel my emotions, I'm no crying man.
 I'm a Craftsman of my maker, that is where I stand.