More than this?
Your touch,
This kiss.
I cannot dream,
Of anything less,
Our heart,
This mess.

Where a thread tightly wound,
It splits and coils,
Soundly boils,
And forgets my ground,
Leaves me loyal,
To the fray,
And frayed,
This lowly mind,
Left today.

In the wake of excess,
The lack thereof,
It feathers a test,
That tempts true love.