I’ve run out of things to say to you
I who love how language feels
Cannot see your thoughts to know,
How to ask what you conceal.

Perfection is fine to a point,
An everlasting urge
but I’d never breathe again,
If I did not share our eternal love.

The exquisite princess of maiden joy
Can sacrifice her honor and her name,
By giving of her sullen self
from within her hidden carnal dream.

Understand the silent plan
The never spoken thought.
Reflect on days never lived,
Answers never given, never sought.

Receive please what you are due.
Believe at least that I love you.