A Thirst for Devotion
I do not want the love that's mild,
A gentle sun, a breezy sky.
I want the storm that drives me wild,
The kind of love that learns to fly.
I want your thoughts to be a cage,
With every bar etched with my name.
A beautiful, unyielding page,
Inscribed with my possessive claim.
I want your pulse to beat my rhythm,
Your breath to hitch when I am near.
To be the scripture of your schism,
The source of every hope and fear.
I want to be the shadows where you linger,
The silent phone, the desperate wait.
The feeling of a single finger, a small gasp,
That seals a beautiful, dark fate.
So love me not with easy grace,
But with a hunger sharp and deep.
Let madness etch upon my face,
The vows your wounded soul will keep.
And in this romance we have made,
Where need and obsession twist,
I'll be the fire, you the shade,
And we will never be dismissed.
