Poem

Thoughts of you illuminate my spirit; Never a flicker of flame, but with Arching bolts which strike with a force That disturbs my equilibrium. My mind races as waves of passion flush over My pale skin, causing me to gaze upon visions Of impossible romantic possibilities. Pathetic is this woman who anticipates the True rhythm of love, with a man she will never hold. My imagined discourse of thoughts leave me suffering, As my lips quiver with the words I shall never speak to his: "I have loved you more than anybody in this world."