I look forward to seeing him everyday.

What is this torture?

How do I stop castigating myself
and throwing myself prostrate
on the burning coals
those spitting embers
spider web cracks
spreading like contaminants
foreboding of the epidemic to come
intricate designs carrying grave warnings.

I tremble.

I have never trembled before.

Not in response to the mere
idea
that image in my head of
his arm tenderly around my shoulders
to shelter me from the inevitability of the future
the dancing spectre of his face
lingering in the goose flesh
that breaks out like a cold sweat
when my heart aches
and my mind cries out in anguish
at the terror and sheer immensity of
that crushing longing.

Never have I wanted so wantonly
a wildfire consuming
ravaging every inch of my world
reducing me to a snarling beast
bared teeth
hair standing on edge to lash out
the power of the entire universe
pulsing through my veins.

A mother’s love pales
to the ferocity of my fight.

I have nothing to lose
I have seen the mountaintop
I have seen the destruction
the darkness and storms which
lie ahead for the burning chasm of
pain and beauty and love
that is my very essence
and I must continue
I must go there and know
that I can survive the gale winds
and the pelting rain
slapping my face
with a lace glove
as if that could somehow insulate me
from the sting of your absence
and the looming murky world
that you leave in your wake
expecting my gratitude
for the silt and dust that hangs around me
whose hollow presence
doesn’t keep me warm at night.

I feel my control
slipping through my fingers
the sieve through which my power is filtered
and I am left with only the dregs
why did you have to come here?

Why did I listen to your whisper
to open my eyes and
see
and have your face be the first
image haloed in the sun’s glorious offering
of light
bathing my retina in the warm liquid matrix?

How long could I have held onto hope
that two parallel lines
could one day diverge from their path
their arrow-straight shot to infinity
and converge
to know that touch for even a fraction of
a femtosecond?

How long will I continue my self deception?
To listen to the dulcet tones of that uninhibited
purr in the back of my mind
which exists outside of knowledge and logic
inhabiting the world of unmentionable desire
a longing that I suppress
a wanting that I can never trust.

Crumbling facades and fading frescos
are all that lie ahead
as time’s march crushes all dreams
under its steel-toed boot
stealing everything away from me
until I subsist on arid dust
and musty, time-worn clocks.