By: Linda M. Crate

my love for you is
random and unexpected
seems too excessive
when her lips are the ones
that kiss you to sleep,
and still i long to be your ocean
the one that washes away
your agony
so nothing remains in your sky
but stars and moonbeams
flowers and dreams;
perhaps, it is wrong but is there
anything in this world that
is right?
what comparison can i draw
for this line of morality?
yet i have a heart and a soul and i know
if someone hurt me that way i would
never trust them and so i can
not have you break
her soul,
but this passion inside burns like a fever
threatens to consume me
all i want is you;
this obsession is madness and yet it touches
every part of my afflicted heart
nothing can cure me but
your heart—
and yet it exactly this that i shall not get,
but perhaps one day she will be
no more;
and i will get my chance and my cure and
my sanity.