To call it lust would be too carnal.
It is too meaningless of a word.
Would you tarnish your very home,
The way we tarnish ourselves with desire?

To call it obsession is too base.
As though obsession could drive me
To meet each hair upon your head,
And never tire till I know them all by name.

To call it love would not be enough.
The word cannot bear the weight
of the living thing in me,
That only beats because of you.

If my tongue knew how to shape itself
Around the feeling that consumes me,
Then I would speak words that no man
Has ever heard before or ever will again.