The idea of making love to her
- or to simply watch her smile/laugh
- or to hear a solemn gasp of morning air
   when the dun sun creeps through the blinds of our room
- or the idea of spending just an hour in a thrift store with her
- or a car ride with her
- perhaps a midnight walk or trip to Walmart with her

is only a fleeting notion of the incontestable bounds of the human soul
and the all encompassing adoration I (personally me) have for her (actually you).
These weird disconnected nights are leaving me sleepless in wonder, as to how we fit
and when you smoke to escape some inscrutable sadness it leaves me cold and lonesome as the endless drone from the [I don't know where]
but and so, I'll sit or lay with you
and think of you
and confess to you
that I am madly devoted to you

In ways that transcend physical bounds
(a spiritual lust)
I want to embrace your aura
to kiss your soul and be warmed not by the summer heat but by the radiant glow of your incredible mind, as you read self-help books in some dark corner of a library weeping but only internally; as the facade you guard stays raised like so many bridges for passing ships into the harbour of eternal truth