Only In Illusions

I retreat to the pen and sulk in this motionless state...

Conditioned so lowly, so immobile, that my ability to speak is too powerless to initiate...

You...

The epitome of all I'm wanting; yet, the essence of all I'm lacking...

The most beautiful and destructive contradiction...

The basis of my diction...

Amidst the most sweet and subtle of melancholies...

Curse regulation, vices, and follies...

The angel of my fears and my plights...

Whose attributes stand so pure, so divine, so upright...

My pulsating veins and senses scream your name...

For my blood can't survive on mere shadows alone...

You're the frailty to my brittle bone; the force actuating this weak, hopeless spirit; the degradation of self-worth, ego, and merit.

Yet, somehow your persona alone gives me wings...

And builds empires and conquers lands and makes the western zephyrs sing...

And plants vineyards from which my thirsting heart drinks to satisfaction...

Intoxicated with the bittersweet wine of such attraction...

And when I wake up, the beams from Dawn's star heat the flames of my desire...

This one-sided love entrenched in fire...

Only to find that I was simply dreaming for an instance, and the frail state of my bones is still in existence. But still, your energy inhabits my blood stream and spreads to my limbs...

And each dance in perfect array to you...

And whisper in sin...

We dance here in shadows, elope in glances, get lost in the fire's mighty entrancement. We can love only in illusions...

Intangible dreams...

But, even mere illusions are good enough for me.