The perfect night with you

bleeds in my soul

as does the oozing sap

aching in the dark woodland.

I dare not chart

the cultivated distance

that stretches between you

and my reason,

where the heart mitigates no pain

and time offers no solace.

I dare not quench this reiterative

feeling of torment

which lives in my appetizing thoughts

of you.                      

Crafted in my mind

are moments unlived,

undiscovered,

but rather veiled in the secrecy of hope,

Warmed by an evening fire

And nurtured by words.