from the vantage point
of the triangle of desire,
all i see are the delicate hands of Rodin,
which now have become your chiseled face.

as the world sleeps at night
i wet my pillow with tears.
tears from the joy
of knowing the intense ways
in which i love you,
deep within my subterranean mind.

love
knows no possession ....
yet i covet you,
all of you,
even the concept of you.

why did you come into my life
like a whirlwind
only to then vanish like a mirage?


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