Limerence
it's defined as the intense infatuation and longing
for someone, a covet almost.
I find myself caught in that feeling often,
Again, I find myself gazing at your pictures, searching your eyes for comfort.
I linger on those green eyes until the noise in my head goes quiet.
I'm no raconteur, I simply write to you to feel you
again. Touching the page I once guided my pen across;
Tracing your finger along the grooves of the words
I wrote to you.
I often wonder what you ponder about, in the
dark when the lights go out and the only thing
between you and the world is a sheet. I ask myself
if you ache for me like I ache for you, if you covet
my presence as I do yours. I often wonder
what races through your head as you run your
fingers through the silky hair, the color of espresso
on a chilly morning, the hair that
returns to me in dreams, texture
and color forever embedded in my brain.
I see you in the espresso of the morning, in green leaves,
in sunlight through the window, each lovely thing carrying
some small trace of you.
I sit in this chair, in a class oozing with callow boys
Trading their perfunctory plans for the girls they claim they love most.
I cannot relate to those girls. They speak of flowers,
dinners, little promises love made almost mechanical,
as though affection were something checked off a list.
I am however, drowned by love, your love