When I think of her I picture her in my bed.
No, not having *** with me, or with her hands under my clothes.
Not even naked.
I see her just lying next to me, looking into my eyes, and whispering
"I love you".
I don't fail to hold her close to me, kiss her forehead, look her in the eyes and say
"I love you too".

Then I see us on the couch.
She rests her head on my lap as we watch a movie.
I start losing interest, and, out of nowhere, I just kiss her.
I say "Be mine forever".
"I already am", she replies.

Finally I see her as an angel, flying above me and lending her hand.
I grab it, and she takes me away to her world.
A world full of beauty, warmth and magic.
She says "Welcome to our world",
and I wake up.
It was a dream, but I turn my head, and there she is. My angel,
still asleep, so innocent, so pure, so beautiful.
I smoothly kiss her on the cheek, and say with a smile on my face
"This is our world".

Some can call me corny.
Some might say I'm gay,
but I can't help but be
a hopeless romantic.

It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.

you make me nervous
in that good, deep down
always wanting more
never let me go way
you are my best friend
you've brought me through
so much, I owe you my success
but I want you
that's the thing
I want you so badly
but I'm afraid
I'm not sure if you feel
the same way
last night you put
your arms around me
your hand on the back of my neck
my hands touching your
strong arms
it was everything I ever wanted
but it was less than I needed
I want you
not just friends who cuddle
not just two people who touch
I want you
in that heady, uncontrollable way
that curls my toes when
you touch my shoulder
it's killing me
I want you to stop
I want to stop
but I don't know if
I can take not feeling your
heartbeat against me
I want you
but you make me nervous

I can't read that smirk
or why you made it.
I don't know this
path.

You have inches on me,
in my heart
I need stilts

The inside-lion looks in
the mirror surprised
she is a
mouse.

the force of my wishes
does not make me

a commander

misfit toys, I'll
be your soldier

made out of tin
(because lead is ill.)

if you stop trying to drop me
out of the window while you're

playing.

Or I will need to start
wearing a parachute.

And so, all that is left is a whisper,
a shadow,
an imprint of you.
Fleeting, yet vivid
as scars left over
from battle.

You may no longer shape
my mind,
my thoughts,
my heart...
but you are still here.

though escape may be found
in the summer air,
pressing down on my blushing
cheeks,
there is no escape at night.
You come in sudden
waves of passion, the ghost
of a memory pressing
down on my skin, feverish
and trembling, urgent in
it's hunger.

It's hunger for you.

And I wonder,
is it the same for you?
Do I still hold a place,
a part,
a piece of your flesh,
of my own?
I wonder,
and I hope that I do.

I hope that sometimes
the ghost of me
haunts you.
Not in vengeance,
there was never a need for that,
but in heat.
That at times your memory touches you,
in your vulnerability,
and so,
I do too.