Untitled

Pardon my lack of attention to certain 'characters' of the alphabet and their upper-case forms; my laptop is broken- it is an effort to produce most sentences unimpeded by the prospect of much 'cut and paste' and time-consuming revision. The letter 's', is one such, and humorously, one of the most common place charms in the succeeding piece. The 's' resembles the snake; a binding, cold, body of muscle that suffocates and devours its prey (In some cases). The snake must 'stalk', and therefore become the part of the (hopefully) successive lover. There is no title; too many things can be easily said about hungering/hunting for love or love's longing... There is more to all this than just the metaphor.

Like a stranger: some freak
upon the periphery,
I steal from you.
Nothing much-
not so much as
you'd ever notice,
but I swindle a look
that makes me fall in love
with your elegant form;
your mix of playfulness
and sophistication.
I am seduced, entirely,
all over again
as I scamper behind
to pick up the debris
that still bodes warm
and trace your steps as if
to suppose I might actually
begin to possess
a keener insight to your life.
I have been struck
so severely by Cupid's arrow
that should I strive
to remove this thing,
it would surely kill me.
How much longer must I live
then, without confession?
How many years must it become
that I skulk, bent-backed
with face to floor and lowered eye,
not half as strong a when I once was
now the year that's passed seems
already too much. Now I try to be bold and...
second guess. I question that which
never before would have
posed a thought.
And seeing beauty, in its glade
as I take perch within the shade
and watch with willful eye;
such very luminosity is burn'd
upon my retina, casting glare
from out the very outline
of your frame, within which;
nothing else will fit.
I think to be your stool.
Make me the very thing to take
your pressure off, after
so many days of taking leave
and making your escape:
Breaking away.
Let me make your house!
Let me serve you breakfast
from silver trays, I'll save
for them- if I must-
Let me rub your sores-
I apologise: sometimes I'm
heavy handed;
maybe sometimes I'd rub you raw-
I am new to this:
In fact, I've never
loved someone so much before.
I appraise the letter
that sets your name;
I take it away and hold it
every time I think
to set it down again.
Delirious,
I am lost to the empty chambers
of my heart
that I keep vacant,
waiting for you.
Unusual that you should cast
two shadows;
that my negative space
depends on you-
so substantial you are-
yet I wonder:
Do you ever feel the weight
of my mostly silent, suffocating affections?
Do you feel another,
looming close,
or my anxious eye upon you?
Do you wonder that I
should even breathe?
so reliant I am upon you.
so very long I followed you
that I now know nothing more-
perhaps never knew much else
since before my sleepless skein
had started
but how to fill my day with you;
how to coil around
and slowly wrap
applying all the pressure,
for a serpent's warmth
is his betrayal.
I've heard others say
they've only loved once
and I wonder:
Do they recall your name?