"I wish that we had never met--
for now you own my very breath.
Every waking thought consumed,
and all my dreams are dreams of you."
"Truly, you are witch," he said...
"or healer to awaken dead.
I smell your scent upon the breeze--
I feel your fingers tracing me.
Drawing me in grace of ease...
once a lion, now appeased.
And should at first I meet my death,
I'll haunt this earth, to breathe your breath.
I'll fly the night to kiss your screams
in hopes I have a part in dreams..."
a single tear rode down his cheek--
proof of his sincerity...
"Oh" I said, "You're poetry..."
"No." He wept. "I'm only me."
He silenced me with depth of eyes
and cradled me to my surprise...
"I shall not leave you, not with ease."
And still? I find it hard to breathe.
I still feel his stroke of hair.
Every breath I breathe--he's there.