desire
desire, nervousness and Your power, in even Your slightest look, I find it so addicting, harboring transformative impossibilities.
is this, I wonder, all that can really happen — wishing, dreaming?
consuming, I can't leave or lose it, not knowing, can't stop thinking about You, sublime wishes.
me, You, even this new impossibility of an us, always back to brilliant and beautiful You.
now, pray tell, how can I possibly sleep tonight?
burning for You, caught in between, yearning to remain completely wrapped around Your finger, feeling panoramic, and this alive.
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Author's Note
This version feels like an email I might have written—immediate, overflowing.
I began with a secret line, an unbroken confession of orientation, and let the poem follow it, carried toward that last line.
Soundtrack:
After Dark — Night Drive
Innerbloom — RÜFÜS DU SOL
Hey Now — London Grammar
devotion without demand.
Je suis à toi.
Other stories by Jeffery Klaehn
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Made me think of WS sonnets. Love the combo of formality and passion. "Slightest look" reminded me of ee cummings. Nice work.
Many thanks!!
Sensitive lines.
Thanks Erika!
I'm currently reading Venus in Furs (Leopold von Sacher-Masoch), and this fits right in. Desire is addictive!
Thanks so much Emily! Yes, and yes!