you are my thoughts as the sun rises, and my dreams after it has set.

His touch is like electricity,
and his voice can calm a thousand hurricanes.
Every time I see him,
I can’t help but stare.
As bad as this is,
He has all of me.
And I have none of him.

la douleur exquise: french for "the exquisite pain"

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Katharine L. Sparrow
circa 3 anni

Allison, this poem is simply put, yet full of palpable pain. I think many of your readers (including me!) will know exactly what you mean! Well done.

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