Thoughts of you illuminate my spirit;
Never a flicker of flame, but with
Arching bolts which strike with a force
That disturbs my equilibrium.
My mind races as waves of passion flush over
My pale skin, causing me to gaze upon visions
Of impossible romantic possibilities.
Pathetic is this woman who anticipates the
True rhythm of love, with a man she will never hold.
My imagined discourse of thoughts leave me suffering,
As my lips quiver with the words I shall never speak
to his: "I have loved you more than anybody in this world."
