Clauses

I can't tell you what it means to

be the one left to figure

how to finish the sentences

you started. I strain to read your eyes,

wanting myself reflected there;

wanting my fingers to

reach out - draw out the

clouds, the haze; wanting

to free you even as you

laugh freely, unabandonely.

You are daring me really

to walk and leap that chasm

between wanting you and

possessing your soul. I want to:

yes I love you; yes,

I understand; yes, I see you,

yes I could. But

do we really understand the

consequence of two different worlds

merging? If I finish what we started

will the sentence be the reality we had

risked our lives to discover?

If love draws us in, could we

still breathe when it closes in? But, oh,

I want to be with you; to be

inside you; breathe you, get lost in

those sighs. Such close quarters

as this tiny human heart can

suffocate us -- I do not really

want to drown yet I see myself

jumping in. So now I understand why

loving you is hard:

you are the death of me.