YOUNIQUE

I turned and I saw,
a vision of sheer beauty,
a fleeting image of self-love
flushed with divine radiance.

I looked away, anxious and
afraid that my glimpse would taint
that which made me see through the eyes of
a little boy gawking at a beautiful girl.

I wished I was a camera
that captured the ephemeral moment
when you stood by the doorway
and looked at me, for me.

I have so much to give
but no one to receive.
I need a glass at all times
to hold the drops that fall from me.

I crave to retract what I said, regret
that my self-imposed denial manifested
in the words I spoke so flippantly
convincing me pathetically about you.

Had I not said what I professed to be true
perhaps I’d be blessed with a glass
in the form of you
to hold me in you, with you.

It tears me so that that which I thought
right is now proven gravely wrong;
if only I could recant my white lies,
expressed through dishonestly crafted honesty.

For you warm me to a depth
I thought I’d never feel again
warmth that now I can’t retain –
my yearning for you is now in vain.

If you could forgive, not forget
but accept, that errantly delivered speech,
believe instead all that my eyes profess to be true;
look at me once more, for me, and we’ll be.