Yearning

My dreams are full of you, M’lord;
Though you cannot say the same of me.
I long to feel the pounding
Of your heart ‘gainst mine;
Alas, I feel that this must not be so.
You look in all places but my own;
My icy home in the shadows of your soul.
My spirit keens at the absence of your glance,
Of your eyes 'gainst the curve of my hips
And the sparkle of mine eyes as they meet yours.
How do I make myself known to you?
Make it so I am seen as the fruit of your rapture,
The ambrosia of your essence;
The nectar of your passions?
For until I belong in the sunlit gardens of your Love,
I die slowly, every day and eternal.