He speaks to me
In poems
I write about him
In dreams
I drift and dance
Aimlessly and enamored
Aside an amassed
Illusion of what
Should be there
It’s you
Impossibly palpable
Tauntingly tangible
It’s you
The rolling rumble
Of a gifted cannonade
I wear his words
And take shelter in his voice
He is a sweeping, blood red sunset
I soak him in
With a smile on my face
When others cannot look
I cannot look away
When I am hell fire
I rain into him
And he
Swallows me up effortlessly like
The calmest, deepest sea
We are bound
By what cannot
Be broken
In what we share
And words left unspoken

If it should be
An ambient glow or
A scorched earth
I burn for him

And if it should be
A soft summer breeze or
A godless gale force wind
He feeds my flames
He feeds these flames