Love, Hate, And All Things In Between

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A Beggar's Cry For Nourishment

I would grovel at your feet
And feel no shame
At the weakness I display
If you would only honor me with your touch
Because the brush of your hand against my cheek, your embrace
Infuses my body and my soul
With a warmth greater than the sun
My tears fall hot enough to burn my skin
When I see how you hurt
You have pierced my armour
So much, that it remains
Only a tattered piece of cloth
That loosely drapes
My heart
It has become useless and ineffectual against the burning
soulful looks you throw my way
And when you touch my hair and
Lay your head on my breast
I ache
I ache for what cannot be
And oh, when you press your lips to mine
I feel like I am lost in the desert
And you are my oasis
My salvation
But I can never have my fill of you
And with the small bits of your affection that I am allowed
That you can grant me
I will surely die of hunger

copyright 2001