I've never told you
the boom, the pulse, the current
I feel when you touch me, as innocent as
a gentle graze of the hand, or
the loving cheek caress.
Or the deep, heart-wrenching
kiss, that stops my heart altogether.
I've told you
everything, but
there's always more.

So much more.

I cry
myself to sleep some nights, sobbing
because I can't
hold
it
all
together;
my love
for you, my hurt
from her, him, her, them.
The togetherness together with
the suppressed loneliness,
a mismatched pair meant to be
toogether.
You sleep peacefully, oblivious
to the heartache
in my bed, and wake only to
the cheerful light of my love, encasing you
in a protective case.
I won't tell.

I tell you the love that I never,
ever,
could have imagined; only you,
my one and only. I tell
you, I need you
more
than breath, nourishment, hydration;
a cliche, no doubt - and too shallow
to express the depths of the truth. There's
more,
always more. I need you
more
than I need myself.

I've told you everything, but there's always
more.