What can I say? Why do I want words?
This love is so much higher
than the words that shape my art
I think of my love and words leave me lonely
So that I cannot write, I cannot live as I used to
And there is no poem
only naked yearning
Shadows of my love can be spoken
But in my presence is the real thing
This is the poem not yet written
about the love not yet born
formed of thoughts - silently screaming
trapped without expression.
Don't stop seeking at my words
They fail you.
Come to me - let me show you
how I want you.