I tried so hard it was in me to
but I could never contain you.

My eyes were blinded with your beauty.
The tongue within me was tied in two.

Those fingers tapped so impatiently
for a midnight Friday call.

Your voice was upon me relentlessly
like a heat wave.

A catastrophic fall gave way
and was the measure of your scent.

My instinct was to love
and I loved
I still love
that love that never went away
to give a moment’s peace.

The purpose of life is to love.
If God is within me
then you are at God’s side
for you shall surely haunt me
‘til the day He says, “you die.”

Loving you is like whisking air into
eggs and milk and butter and flour
for lemon crêpes with maple syrup:
a delicacy to devour.

But …
I finish by dipping my finger in,
it should not be there,
I admit it,
and pulling up your elixir
until it is as thin and fragile
as a filament of light in air,
I marvel at your mixture’s
sweet allure
but being a man
I go too far
and break your