| |
Unknown to this world
as I lie asleep,
he knows and wakes,
my secrets, to keep.
He knows my dreams,
the dark and the deep.
He knows what bothers,
how I sink, when I weep.
He knows what I want;
how badly, how much.
He knows and stirs not,
neither speaks as such.
He knows, I can tell
when the tide consumes.
He knows. He can see
me bursting in fumes.
He knows how I wish
to touch, to caress.
He knows I'm alone,
incomplete, in distress.
He knows, only him
the fall and the bliss.
He knows the longing
for the rapturous kiss.
He knows, I'm free
is what I pretend.
He knows I'm bound
by the means to the end.
He knows he has no choice
but to know what I know.
He knows he's no help;
but always there, I know.
|
|
