Daydreaming as I do, sinking, blushing in my bed alone
with phantom embraces and vaporous liaisons,
never at full grips with your absence but gladly in your desire;
I whisper "God" because I found her in you.

Unstable hours mount, dedicated to you;
so do I count our instances one by lonely one.
I spend these days on you and I alone
and purchase many nights in solitary.

I've spoken all my written words,
wrapped finely, tuned to our inevitable song.
And though a pallid star could be everything I am
I burn most insatiably, uncontrollably, when I am burning for you.

To catch the future in your eyes,
pensive fantasy must never realize
the tear blurred rays come from infant dreams,
of newborn plans and undeveloped things.
And I can only cradle thorns so sharp.
I can only give to you what, in giving, I do not
sever fragile threads that guide,
or pick apart the flower in which my love has now confide.

I'll curtail you as your wander-lust
pulls you ever from my side,
dodging my love as awkward rays
from a sun who's shine never shown physically nor visibly to you.

I am little but precious
like a warm wind whose voice
is strange in a sense
and deep as a well.

Daydreaming as I do, sinking, blushing in my bed alone
with phantom embraces and vaporous liaisons
and never at full grips with absence but gladly in your desire;
strange in a sense and deep as a well:
I whisper "God" because I found her in you.