Lover who is not my love,
I can’t make your eye turn;
I can’t make your love burn.

You are my addiction
but we are not addicts in union dissolved,
for we share not love’s slender point.

I want your caress as my drug,
as the force of fated love
that’s not shared, but I’m
hoping it’s enough to bind
our molecules tight
and in-flight together
as one substance,
hot and reactive,
bubbling with strife.

I’m hoping and craving and
my body is in dreadful play
with its yearning and sweet desires
that want the high and the
climax of the rush that comes
with devotion, with imagination,
and the game of sex.

But I can’t make you desire me,
and fill you up with my dope.

I can’t make you want me
and be together with just this hope.