When I'm lost and far in myself, You are the stone I cling to;
The light that awakens me from my darkest dreams. It seems
a lifetime while I wait for you to wake. When your hand finds
me in the night, soft, skin to skin; when I feel your hot breath
against my shoulder, it anchors me in now. I would design a
rhyme for how you wind your chains about my heart if my
words could only manage. Instead, I am full and heartbroken,
a token, unspoken and cracked into threes. How can I describe
a vibe, a sound, alliterated in radiant glory then plunged into hell?
I fall short, I fall apart, I find the parts of me that ache for you.
Imagine, pouring tea, a spot beneath the trees, and catching my
eye a moment too long before realize you're bound to spill.
That tenuous moment before your cup overflows, balanced and round,
is how I feel for you.

Freeze that, hold it close, hold it tight, hold it hostage in time.
Time enough for us is never quite as much as what I hoped.
Focused, unfocused, I never catch that place where everything
goes still. I realize how precious the moment just as it slips
away. Too fast too last. Touch me again; remind me,
entwine me, define me with each breath. Death to anything
daring to interfere. Sincerely straining not to shatter the serenity
of your sleep, I sit. I watch. I wait. My heart rises each time
one of your eyelashes, washed in gold and fanned like a sunburst
across your cheek, flinches. Sing to me of promises, sing without
words or notes, you need none. Sing until the morning comes
when the light redeems every vow. When lost and aimless I
suddenly rediscover my North Star, shining stoically without fail,
is how I feel for you.

Truly captured, strangled, moments submissive in mind, intending
a song, defending ideas, mending a tear, suffocated but bare. The
raw pain of romance fills my lungs so I cannot speak. Heavy and
breathless, a restless writer full of useless comparisons, waits
outside, pen raised in a half-hearted attempt to invent the spectacular,
the shiny and new. I envy his resolve, I only dissolve into frenzied
fancies at half past five to find I am filled with more than this
simple frame can withstand. If stories with fantasy and dragons
would move the sky, it might be enough. If poems salted by tears
of Venus might cause the holy to cry, it might be enough. But each
night I sit awake 'til blushing dawn arises. And I'm left wondering how
to be enough. And if I could embody all I want to say, if I could be
everything beautiful and terrible at once, if I could teach my heart
to speak the truth... Then it would tell you every second,
how I feel for you.