Our Love Is Torn by Miles, not by Choice
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Our love is torn by miles, not by choice.
Soon, soon, my darling, I'll be coming home.
At night I play your body and your voice,
But soon the hands and cries will be your own.
I want to love you all the hours we've missed,
And do the things I've fantasized for you:
Kiss you all the places my mind's kissed,
And put you everywhere I've wanted to.
My only fear's desiring you so much
That dream will overwhelm reality;
Time, for both of us, must temper touch
So love can once again be slow and free.
My mind's already half insane with pleasure;
Soon, soon my body will consume its treasure.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon