In how many women’s beds are you sleeping, when I have barely found any other worth a lusting,

Yet I do yearn for the day where I can be combusting

Long for the day where I can begin some trusting,

and then I’ll know that when I’m thrusting all of my energy and my love into another, it won’t be for the sake of your other lovers

And the thought of a man won’t make me shudder

Maybe his touch will make me remember, what it supposed to be like to be held, like an ember

Too hot to clutch too tight and hold too strong, yet just warm enough to stay by it’s fire all day and night long

Stoking it with passion, not fear nor threat, knowing that the licking of the flicking from the flames are coals compared to what’s yet

Cosmos and campfires will combine into the one universe it is, and then, I will be content knowing, that side of the bed, is no longer his.