i am too awake –
too alive at this ashen hour, the stretch of
each day i have to endure, you-less.
i would give anything, anything to be taken back
back a night and a half,
to be back
back on that crowded dancefloor where everybody
cared about everybody else –
except for us.

i am too alive –
too loved at this pivotal point in time
my eyes betray me, when missing you.
i would trade my asleep-ed unconsciousness
just to be conscious, to lie,
to lie next to you
lie all night, suspended in the silent motion
of loving you, loving that you –
love only me.

i am too loved –
too happy to be contained, to not declare
that each time i say it, it grows and grows.
i would sell without abandon, absolutely everything
everything bar you,
you = everything
everything i ever dreamt, cried, fought and waited
for you and i fit, we fit like –
no one else.

i am too happy –
too blessed to be ungrateful, though at
times i am painfully weak, frantic.
i would not feel half as alive if you weren’t
weren’t so wholesomely reassuring,
reminding, that you weren’t:
weren’t going to betray me by any length of speech or glance
for once in my life i’ve laid all my –
belief in you.

i am too blessed –
too ecstatic to forget, how close to the
limitless limits of the sky you bring me.
i would die to live those instants of ours, repeatedly
repeatedly rekindling Kurt’s lyrics,
embracing repeatedly
repeatedly exchanging souls parabiotically; you nebulise
my fears, and i your vault of self control against –
none but me.

i am too ecstatic –
too relieved of history’s weights by your
amaranthine love that i need mortal reminders.
i would do all i can to know that you are here,
here for me, for me only,
here to stay
here, because nowhere and no one else matters
but our breathless moments when we’re within ambsace –
of becoming one.

i am too relieved –
too grateful you don’t find my leitmotif
tiresome, predictable, a disenchanting bore.
i would not be the same if those amorous blinks of yours
were not for me, but remained yours to give like the sun to flowers,
if i, myself, was not yours:
yours entirely to do anything with as you please
will you please keep doing what you are now, for –
we are (re)paired.

i am too grateful –
too in love to think in lines straight enough for parallels
for your sensitive ways are but a dream-awake.
i would not change a single frame
of this bond that frames
us, a frameless
frame, in which we are to be the kaleidoscopic portrait:
for some beauty is (like us, intrinsically), not heard or seen –
but merely are.

i am too in love –
too in love to pitch in key, for what is the key
to me but merely your raw existence?
i would not trade a single second of our
time, of anything that’s ours:
for “hours” and “ours”
are hopefully interchangeable; i’ve wanted this a long time
ago, and i want this for a long time more –
i love you.