waiting for you, with quickening pulse,
desirous, anticipating the brush of your lips against mine,
kiss me deeply, I shall do the same,
today, and in our tomorrows yet to be teased out of time … …
waiting for you, with quickening pulse,
desirous, anticipating the brush of your lips against mine,
kiss me deeply, I shall do the same,
today, and in our tomorrows yet to be teased out of time … …
what is this yearning,
this furnace, this cauldron,
this raging, fiery burning,
this need,
this ache,
these forms, entwined,
between clandestine half-nods,
semi-smiles,
momentary glances,
all those forgotten miles,
yet, still …
intertwined,
wanting, knowing,
the unsaid,
rendered unsayable,
by norms, forms,
blushes avoided,
rituals sanctified,
morals beatified,
while emptiness roams the heart,
as it feels itself,
anaesthetically,
ripped, torn apart,
yet, still …
inflamed by raw,
wild, ravenous desire,
hunger, famished souls,
seeking release,
from this deep freeze,
this styrofoam, inured,
buy-this not that-ness,
these shackles, obliviously embraced,
yawning phoney smiles,
in this world, these walls,
this society, these halls,
this whole racket,
looking back, bamboozled,
as to how one slipped so easily into,
this disturbingly comfortable straightjacket.