through the poetry
you wrote with your eyes

the poetry you wrote for me
and someone else.

And as my pen ran out of ink
I shook it violently -
condemning it to hell and everlasting
damnation, watching it drain uncontrollably
as if being sucked out
from the other end by want.

And all I ever wanted was to hug
you and hold you close.

To stop and savor the words
that you spoke.

(c) February, 1999, Steven H. Lee

This poem is also posted in The Writer's Corner at Epinions.com, as well as on Literotica.com.