To reach a gasp,
to hear the rasp of voice
in passion’s lock
I still not dare.

The giving take of flesh
and leaving out of breath
recoils my hand,
my soul from you.
You feel it too.

Staring only when the face is turned
and hating yearning reach
and burn of lust you raise in me.
I cannot see you thus.

Once Emperor of all I touched
I meter now, the feel and length of time
I spend of those outside myself.

The change in me, intense.

The meeting of my spirit’s death
has faced me back again to
places in my mind I conquered thrice,
and moved to depths and reaches recompense
with armored lock and stifle strong and dense,
I can not hear the breath of you
and still be quiet in myself.

Staring still, and silent,
tasting lover’s scent,
and all disquiet things within,
my love’s rest takes its leave,
of me and you.

01/24/2008

Posted on 01/25/2008
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Somers