It's magic or something like it.
That which I feel but can't ever taste.
I feel it burning through my veins,
Heat my cheeks and cloud my brain.
Bittersweet this aftertaste.
A stirring itch I cannot end.
A passion gone astray.
A need to please that forever goes in vain.
Nostalgic is my desire
a fire, wanting for its missing flame
An ethereal longing
that leaves me prone and already lain.
(c) smr - 9.01.03