Desire.

It tangles my gut, dragging my chest deep down into the soul.
Longing for a touch, or a gaze from whom I have yet to share the same plane.

At night I do dream, that in the twilight sky we see the same things.
The same moon, and stars… drawing pyramids and following maps to our lost past.

There can never be a ripe pair of two romantics.
Even Juliet did not care much for Romeo’s antics.

Yin-Yang and the Dao wont allow it;
to burn with unrequited desire is my cursed darkness.

If only you would stop delivering gifts,
fueling my agony with empty persistence.
I cannot confess the way I understand love is different than thou.
But I accept, any love of yours tis better than none.

But those three words dear,
Do cut deep.

I cannot confess the things I fantasize while in my bed.
Longing.