unslaked

The urge to move you, pushes air out of my lungs.
I want to make you feel.

Passion.
Guilt.
Love.

The urge to touch you, forces lids to tightly shut.
I want to have you understand.

Commitment.
Compromise.
Love.

The urge to keep you, strains my fingers to trembling.
I want to let you see.

Pain.
Trust.
Love.

The urge to love you is too strong.

If wanting, spent and refilled, were our basis, you would be borne on clouds
to my feet, left there to bathe in caresses and breathless whispers

Of love
Unbidden,
Ignored.