she touches me and i am lost
in her hair, her mouth,
her eyes, her skin—
she is quicksand, she is oasis.
she speaks to me and i am allured
her voice lily of the valley,
daring tongue soft and subtle
lethal as i drink her in
no longer can i give anyone else
what i so eagerly give to her

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.