I write to you not knowing who you are. I think about you everyday. I am in my evening humanities lecture hall listening to Joaquín Rodrigo's Second Movement of Concierto Aranjuez and I can feel my soul unraveling. I don't believe it is a calling for me to be a poet, but I can feel its presence instilled in the very core of my being. Poetry pulling at the chords of my lungs, accelerating my heart beat, causing me to breathe unsteadily. I believe in you. Eleven minutes and fourteen seconds is more than I could ask for, yet it will never be enough. I will never stop wanting, desiring. You're out there somewhere. My words are yours.

******
Let me show you my weakness
When I tried to be strong
I was a lover all along
I was right when I was wrong

And all the passion
I became Vesuvius
A cauldron of boiling energy
An eruption to destroy Pompeii
And **** the innocence

And what would ever make me weaker
Than being shown the god I believe in
Is only a false idol
A deception
Leading me to the darkest parts of night

What will make me strong again?
Only love

And in Pompeii
They are still frozen in time
The moment a beautiful landmark
Became a killer
And the look of terror can still be seen in their eyes

And really all I can say
Is that I'm sorry

I tried to be something
But I wasn't strong enough

Your soft lips
Caress me
As I fall deep
Inside your spell
I see red
Roses and cheeks
All over me
Resting on my body
As I lay in this
Pool of blood