You are the phantom under the stair, 
the one who whispers of the dark desires 
we all need to deny.

You are the shadow hiding in the closet 
that we must ignore lest we face 

And You are that unseen, unknown, presence 
that floats just behind the corners 
of the eyes.


You are knowledge, You are meaning, 
and You are purpose and love – and if 
Your are not, then he Is not.

Life, Love, it is all 
but a dream. You, half-formed putty – 
a shape to dissolve at his touch –

You are the desire and passion 
whose name he can only 
whisper to the night;

You are the dream; 
You are the words 
he cannot write.

(To — :: April 24, 2011 @ 08:04)