It may be that I will never love,
never drown in the cerulean veins
of another’s body, never wipe beauty
from the cheek of a lover,
never match myself, in word or step,
to another human rhythm.

I may be that I will never touch
with reverent fingers, an altar
consecrated to the highest power –
templum Veneris, the hidden sanctum.

It may be that I will pass, in solitary silence,
through the winding halls of life, listening
to no matching footfall on the stone,
only the austere echo, the rasping cry,
keep company with me.

It may be that I will never fall in love,
but goddess knows -
with all my mind and self -
she knows I’ve loved.