I have never desired much for myself –
yet I have always craved to give my everything to you–
to your light, and your omnipresent warmth–
the contours of your existence are anathema to perception–
they cannot be defined by a gentle caress nor
by a starved, all-consuming lust–
I want to hold you and to keep you–
I know it would burn me beyond recognition,
and I like to think that that would hurt you by extension–
maybe that’d be asking for too much–
but I think we are all entitled to just a little undue fantasy–
it's not like there’s much else I can stand to ponder at night.