This is a poem I wrote two years ago, another one of my favorites. If you can’t tell, I really love writing sonnets…
But what is desire? Need unfulfilled?
It is but a tortuous, scalding flame.
A true existence upon which to build
dangerous relationships. None to blame
for my masochism. But – to implode
would be nice for awhile. And then see
with clear eyes, smell clear smell, and overload
my being, my senses, and to just be.
With the time nigh and your presence so near,
I think my self-control is about to
wither into nothingness. Please, come here
just so that I may be a part of you.
With an abundance of heat and the swell
of emotion, madness will turn as well.