I, the fickle dove, I fear the movement
of sound from sweet lips,
the tone of the words
singing from the great sky
of the infinity of love
you feel for me.
I, the tragic beast, I fear
I love you so deeply
that the thought of you
driving in your car
music blaring
in your fantasy mind
will not see those headlights
will fall will fall.
I, I fear your bright eyes,
your winsome face,
the depth of your letters
as you stroke my brown hair,
your meaning drives sickness
into my stomach
for fear of losing you.
Please love me, little one.
Please understand that
I am trying every minute
to be wonderful for you,
I flick the ashes from my hand
and guilt consumes me,
but I know that I need you
more desperately than
I care to admit
and you will help me now.
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