He walks with purpose
as sure as the day
his head touches the heavens,
his hands wider than the oceans
which cradles my tender heart
in calloused palms.

How quickly this passion comes!
What a tyrannical ruler infatuation can be!
His image, the warmth of his gaze
lies behind my thoughts
his name is savored by my tongue
letters in a formation
creating an identity,
bringing a smile to my lips
and a skip to my heart.

I'm tortured by my dreams,
languid kisses and whispered promises
that he and I share by night
in the back of my mind
but are never revealed to the light of day.
I yearn for his company
for the comfort and heat
of his love in the bleak cold of loneliness

He walks with purpose
and while I watch him pass by
with the secret confession in my eyes,
my heart breaks
because while he walks with purpose
it is not towards me.