it's been too long (desire)

if you were something i could dive into,
accomplish, or finish,
i would.
i would devour you,
proud and full.
but,
you do not give way
to my general indecent behaviors.
or, rather,
you are much more to be discovered
than procured.
you discover me.
you entice.
allure.
whisper
words that carefully
dance around my ears,
tangled in my curls.
desire, desire.
i am spun
in secrets,
and regret,
and the innocent
feeling of infinity.
you incite in me
something that roars
late, or early, in the morning.
i feel it all over.
tremble, quiver,
desire, desire.
i only can tell you now,
after it's been too long,
only after affections wane
in subtle, tired
efforts to run away
that it's been too long.
desire reacts,
reverberates,
cries aloud.
i remind you
that i never remember
how we start,
restart.
my words fumble,
pause, wonder,
over breaks and silence
heavy in conversation.
i am not the smooth
one who gives
way to the
gentle flow of life.
no,
i demand:
spurred only by
desire.
do not toy with me,
there is too great a need
to be wasted
on empty passes
and fleeting moments
of desire.
do not waste your time on me
if you do not intend to be near.
i cannot bear
the weight of desire,
the agony of separation,
the terror of hopes
deferred to indifference.
and, in the blinding
shame of hiding
i seem to only notice after
it's been too long.
desire,
Emmanuel,
it's been to long.