i suppose it is a sort of testament
to human spirit, or stupidity, either one,
that i cannot help but feel for you.

you compile all my possibilities and
limit me to only one: what i can be for you,
only for you, for the remainder of my days.

during a summer sunset, you are everything
i can imagine, a sort of staring contest
with the lowered gaze of the sun.

the most beautiful face i have ever had
i had with you, i don't forget
it is your hands that made me shine.

you have given me an entrance into
my own heat, a doorway into the anger
and the sadness i should never have found.

so one time, darling, let me just say
it has been enough to know you, it has been
enough to have survived those days.