I am unwell,
Have a slight headache--
I should sleep--
But for some reason I keep awake
Thinking of you,
Drowning in my feelings, suffocating under the pressure of my uncontrollable emotions--
Rationally looking at this, it should make no difference in me trying to sink into your depths--
For I am here and you are not,
Yet I keep awake talking about you to this oblivious Night--
I should... probably sleep?

One look at you—
And time to me, seems a follower of yours,
For your mesmerizing, comely appearance
Which enraptures every ticking heart
For sure has ensnared time's—
For it so seems that
He's stopped the march of advancing age
From reaching your youthful mien
So you may parade your timeless beauty
Across this globe inspiring life,
Showcasing the victory you hold over time.

Heaven is grounded upon your ethereal feet—
A garden of flowery bliss grows
Where your lithe, heavenly form roams.

I've loved you for the years that I've lived
And lived the years I've loved.

I find myself in a museum (in my mind)
Peering at your painting mounted on this eye;
No landscape more picturesque,
No portrait more honest, eyes more innocent
Than yours can I find.

I've learnt to let go (of everything),
To attain serenity,
In order to evolve and be content.
But you I will not and shall not let go,
Your essence in me I shall let no one touch,
I shall let nobody know of
(Shield you in me lest you become susceptible to the travesty of perspectives.)

You shall be my one act of resistance—
I shall resist in the process of death
To persevere in my love,
To reincarnate on this plane where suffering exists, over and over, only to embrace your person when need be.
For is not the greatest of love the one that resists everything and chooses to stay.

Aromas of childhood wafting through
Are they immortal in you, O wayward Wind?
For I've aged in myself
metamorphosing through linear years;
And the freshness of youth which was once beheld, now
Has all but been buried under the dunes
Of shifting memories accumulated;
Where there once was an oasis of innocence—
Where bathed this pristine soul;
But since has been evaporating from this cloudless arid clime.

Methinks you've vaulted my scent of nascent-hood
O dear, dear omnipresent Wind,
So that I may inhale the tang of youth
Cycled back by your exhalation
So that I, may gulp a self, that was once closer to the truth.