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)