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oh, to ascribe those fatal moments when you taste the sun
where it's expression pours in through your skin
warming the flesh and imparting that fragile reality
of something more than yourself, a greater design
you're like that ache that I can bear to have
that concept that shapes a belief, impressing
you hold a defining truth that would break who I am
but it's contradiction supports and affirms you
so ask me not to hold a hope that I caould ascribe to pen
this wish that you ask of me, I don't dream of you
within seconds of clarity in a hard found creativity
failing to develop an expression of who you are
it would be something less than the hopes we dream of
a fractured impression only barely remembered
this cruelty, like a dream that we forget on waking
leaves an aftertaste on my perceptions of you
know, when I remember the laughter of yesterday
smiling ruefully at the poignancy that it brings
I know that reality can only temper the aspirations
of somewhat wantful hopes never to be realised
yet, still knows that I love you as I do
without the touch of flesh, or savage twists
a heart that knows of you, not passionate or lustful
just accepting of what is; and what you give.
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