a rapture on the tongue

a rapture on the tongue,
I become wordless and remorseful
to your extent of our sadness;

I digress, my sweet love,
it is not words of unsurity
that I use or cryptic messages
of unimaginable translation,
for like those that get tossed about
too many a time and over again-
they lose the intention of the mind
and once again the intention of the soul
that was translated from such
into that of the mind
(a horrible quandary of
moment to next moment).

so one must wonder, my sweet love,
does it all end with one mere change
or chance of difference,
or does the classic tale of romance
procure in its destiny
of such our hands touch,
our lips first embrace,
our souls first tango through
the doors of a dance
where nobody recognizes our moves,
(ah yes, I remember quite well
the first time I appreciated your eyes-
I could not stop but to
look even further into you
and to venture as only poets dare to venture
and step into the very essence
of your spirit;
I remember dashing out
like I were the cloud to remain
floating the ethereal sky
for the remainder of the eve,
as I wanted to stay there, afloat,
in your mind for as long
as you wanted me to stay)
my longing to tangle myself
in your lips embrace for much
a more sufficient satisfaction
than the briefness we have
accustomed ourselves to.

maybe you have not realized
the response my love has had to you,
it seems almost endless,
(I do wish to sustain from
making promises because I am
not secure in myself to be
able to hold on to such an
angel as yourself)
as if no boulder could
possibly block the path in which
who I am is set toward;
it is so that
a swift breeze will accomplish
setting a blazing heart (of your ownership)
higher into the paradise and torment
that is the great of your gift.

no such breeze or wind
will ever be strong enough,
or swift enough,
to distinguish such a grand desire.