You are furious to tell him you love him
because its joys may be wrong.
Your demands are bullied by silence
since its facts are thick drapes
to get choked.
You squirm to bear all things elusive
because its labors sneak in you
Affection's the shame of it
but daily you need to touch him
so you praise all
that woos delay.
You want best of all
to dance in his room naked
as a crook he will kiss
What he adores are not sold
so you lather yourself
with the reinvention of itch.
Days you're hurting to beg him
because the real each glad time
are not anymore.
There's a flooding of truths
to punish him with
but a better and stranger grew glorious
and became what it is.