She inspires
such fervent desire
but wanting her is
like making a wish
to not exist.

It is like
longing for a scream
cause you think
that your ears won’t sting
when the banshee queen
and sister sirens
let loose to sing.

It is like trying
to kiss an angry lion,
or being in love
with the many faces of
eternity.

Eyes sparkling
in infinity,
depths beyond
any poem or song
that I could write.

If I could touch
such
glacial skin,
see her icy heart
melting
as she embraces
my warm graces.

Still, she makes me feel
as if I could commit
to the joy of temporary existence
as long as she deigned
to spend just a moment
hands held, talking
laughing to ourselves
as we keep walking
past sad gawking
strangers hawking
a life of loneliness.

Sitting long past eleven
as the clocks tic on,
knowing in passing
my love is gone
and there will be
no heaven waiting for me,
except in my memory
of loving her.