Years of loveless sex  − 25 November, 2001

How many years has it been?
These years without yearning.
They were fine and good,
But now they look gray.
Years of loveless sex,
Of tolerance instead of passion.
Oh my soul must have tired.
For when did I last feel this irrational drive?
Telling me to run blindly for the cliff
And dive at the fire.
How long since I have hungered so? For anything?
How dull my senses must have been
To tire of wonderful them and their mediocre ilk.
To pay such disrespect.
And the guilt fed the gray.
It scared off passion.
And the gray dimmed
Down to a new resolve.
I vowed to be choosy.
And before you,
I picked through a few.
But I have picked.
You.
You inspire me.
Your power terrifies me.
I think of you and my stomach jumps,
Rolling with excitement at everything you are.
At all of my dreams. Of all I’ve wanted.
For suddenly these dreams might get out,
Escape my heart and fill my world.
This chance so real, so lusciously possible
That I dread to miss it.
I’m terrified to try for it will cost me dearly.
And it is but a chance.
But I must I must try.
This mute terror,
This power you hold,
I welcome it and you and all the trimmings.
For the brightness of this fire,
I will gladly risk a decade of darkness.