I can touch you,
I can't feel you.
I can kiss you,
I can't taste you.
I can hold you,
I can't help you.
I am with you,
I'm not there.

My November’s are always pivotal

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

"As if you were on fire from within

The moon lives in the lining of your skin"

Because your eyes, so beautiful, containing every color an ocean can be, show the light of your soul... and it is kind.

Because your lips, sculpted by angels, turn up at the corners when you smile, and your happiness makes me a child again.

Because your hair, strands of gold commingled with shadow, betrays the brightness of your spirit,
and the darkness, not unlike my own.

Because your name; said in the darkness of my room, to myself, alone, means I am not alone.

This is why.

Your eyes are the blue grey sea,
in a storm of temptation.
Your lips drive me mad,
my most yearned for sensation.
My hands in your hair
fresh from the shower;
your chest to my chest
at the dark midnight hour.

- To M, with adoration.