He called me (---)...
Now I really don't know what to do.
I squeal breathlessly into my hands,
Biting the flesh of my lips so hard they begin to drip,
With light, iron-tasting blood.
I anxiously lick away my nerves,
Feeling a burst of joy so uncontained
That my body writhes with it,
Rise up through my chest.

I can't stand to not be near,
I want to pry my way into his head,
Hear his private thoughts and replay them in my mind.
Obsessively, he's constantly present within me,
I can't get away so I start to cry,
These tears are those of Elation.

I'm a fool through and through,
But I don't regret this love,
Eternally grateful for his presence,
As I get to witness his perfection.
Unquenchable passion overrides,
But I can't face him with the will,
To pin him down,
Stare unabashedly into his eyes,
Caress his face and rustle his beard,
I don't want to push him further,
So it must wither,
As the morning arrives.