On the Threshold

What poisoned lips that do protest my love,
What gimmick are thine eyes that taunt me with want!
Thou hath come from above,
Taming my wild heart with thy own willful boasting and protesting.

This madness thou drenches upon me,
Like rain catches my flesh,
Making me cold and in need of thee,
For warmth for salvation from this affliction.

But like a sunrise to a vampire; Thy love is what I cannot have,
Thou are the water that the desert flower seeks but cannot find,
I wait to be, to know, thy touch- like a mother for an unborn calve,

I know thou art there,
inside of me
but unreachable, like a part I will never know,
Unseeable am I, for thou does only see thee,

Madness, unmistakable inside of my actions,
I know you are driven from this,
Like a sprinter thou makes for the door,
Ah, if only I could speak of this ache. . . Tis,
Tis desire for more!

Alas, all I have sad is worth naught, for I simply
Quite so,
With all my heart,

love thee.

I do, with all my soul,

I love, oh so much so it burns like Hades within,

Thine restless blue eyes like the sky,
Thy lips like untouchable sin,
My graceful haunt, why dost thou take my dreams?
All I can think of is thy body, thy mind, thy soul!
Why will my angel not leave me to rest in peace?

Alas, I go to bed now, hoping for a sight of thee again,
For if I cannot have thee in life,
I will have thy immortal self in my fantasies.