It hurts me to look into those deep swirling eyes
and not be able to feel you looking back at me
with the desire that floods my veins like a
raging river, bursting at its banks...

I hold you tightly, even though you are
halfway across the moon...mystic and pure

How jealous am I
of the hands that hold your heart
clumsy and weak, not knowing of your
scalding heat...

But I know, I have felt it
in your glances and fingertips
in passing gestures
innocent as a newborn's love...

You pull me to the edge
and back again, leaving
me hoarse with wanting,
weaving razors sliding
down my back...

I hold you tightly, even though you are
halfway across the moon...mystic and pure

Leaving me to wonder
if I am condemned
to burn here in Heaven