It was all I wanted. To be close to him, as close as our human forms would allow us, as close as words would get us. Without the neighboring stares, the waiting appointments, the frequent calls. To be absolutely alone, just two beating hearts stopping time and motion.

I knew, of course, that these were all affairs of the mind. That if I were to gather enough willpower I could suppress these hindering fears and obstacles and I would be able to succumb to my present, to my very latent and waiting task.

But I couldn't divorce the thought that I ought to be interrupted from loving him at any time and that I may not be able to love again, in the same way.

She reached and reached, on the tip of her toes,
But with every second passed the moon she could not hold.
Inch by inch, she standing on the very edge, was suddenly left hugged by pitch blackness.

The poets are dead.

We killed them
Trading truthful words
For false security.

When the switch
Goes off
I feel you creep into my mind

Bursting from the inside in,
You and I colliding,
Creating electricity,
Bolts and bolts exploring your geography,
Tingling your heart, exploding in your brain,
Piloerections across your pale terrain.
Poems encoded in miliseconds,
Of energy, of electrons,
Pushing through nerves,
Veins,
Drains,
Cells full of life and dear how sweet,
Yet the end so near,
Never comes.