Such warmth you possess in a fingertip’s caress,
holding my courage for me, a courage plainly at rest.
Gentle longing inside is held in the dimness
of secret wants and sheer, naked truths,
only the light of a much greater torch,
the admiration for such a warm and tender man,
makes a halo for my secret yearnings,
and it shines on them so I can see your face.
Such strength and compassion is in your soul’s undress;
self-possessed and postured, no unease or unrest.
Gentle strokes of reassurance hiding in the dimness
of a darkened night’s passionate hope
are felt and ignited by a greater force;
the love for such a kind and graceful man
that burns deeply and so intensely
incinerating the ghosts so that I can kiss your face.
Such urgent words when called won’t come,
they wander alone now, bereft of tongue.
Gentle feelings flood the parchment’s dimness,
and its dry, course surface until softened
by the silent voice of mind and heart;
the inexhaustible need for such a man,
will write what my words cannot hope to say
and make pages turn when we at last embrace.