Us enwrapped, to me you whisper "I love you..
	...r feel. I love your feel." For that moment
	with the pause I conceive in this pivotal word,
	I catch a glimpse, held tight in my want
	of your having me as irreplaceable
	-not for raising myself as essential, central to the cosmic balance
	but only to be assured our reciprocity congealed
	retaining simultaneous subcutaneous contact channeled through our hearts.
	I hear "you" resolve into something different,
	not expected,
	only falling outside the space spontaneously given,
	the frame naïvely laid with mistaken anticipation to match it
	the one I thought I heard coming,
	but by no means required or even so much wished
	(I simply left myself susceptible).
	And thus the self-played trick did not come to fruition
	I was not fooled;
	yet a mild tease of the heart was at play
	gentle, with a nature so tender and essential to my wanting to be here
	in the first place
	cherishing any words coming from your splendid lips,
	the constancy of your wish that I be here
	pulling me forth placing me gazed upon
	as adored, to some degree, which is all I could possibly need.
Copyright 1999 John Feissel. All rights reserved.