Is love, that pain,
I feel, deep in my heart?
Is it, that feeling,
Of silvery snakes?
Wiggling, unmercifully,
In the pit, of my stomach,
Which, some call butterflies.

Is it, that lonely feeling,
My empty soul feels,
When alone?
Away from home,
Is it, that craving,
To hold you, in my arms?

When I think of you,
I wish, to squeeze you,
So firmly, yet so tenderly.

To feel you, melting,
Through my finger tips,
To embrace you,
As I deeply kiss,
Your sweet lips.

Is it, that feeling I get,
When we are, on the phone?
And I don't,
Wish your call to end.

Is that why, You're constantly,
On my mind?
Like an incarcerated saint,
In heaven, doing time.

By William Bonilla