Seven Hearts

The want, nimble;
insecurities, sure.
I was here, you there;
we were never so close.
A distance of feet,
or is it of hearts?
I am never so sure.

Ecstasy tastes
like your words in the morning:
surety in my lips,
a sunrise in yours.

Bound in your chains,
I am rev`rently calling
the bearer of whips
to aid my remorse.

You are no flower,
you are no light,
yet the dawn in your eyes:
piercing bright!

We were never so close,
but in this respect,
we tortured the moments,
beheaded regrets.

A pain in much wanting
in greed, I suppose,
gnaws at me all evening
gnaws at my repose
gnaws at me tomorrow
gnaws at me just now.