under the weight of a life I have chosen with joy to live, still there thrives the ignored soul alight with lust.
it isn't that I want to cheat or betray, no not at all. I desperately love my love. the love is so deep that I choose to ignore this self and relegate this voice to secret agent status.
when I think to never again lay on the beach at midnight with fingers reaching through the sand to a new lover's distant land ... when the truth lies in the moments before/after/during the baring of the soul in searching ... when I look ahead to a life of never knowing more variations on the simple sound of sated snoring ... there's a tinge of sadness and death in my heart.
to be with my lover means I must be wholly and singly devoted. I know my heart. it can't be allowed to wander even one millimeter else it rushes a league. and it wishes to stay. it wishes to know this lover's ripe maturity too, not only the new. but it can't have both.
who looks out these eyes? it is many multiples more than what is said or shown.