Do I ask for more with my head
Rested on this bosom divine?
For more moments in this bed?
To be told I own and can make you mine?
With itchy, red eyes I fear it’s my turn
To tell you of how exactly I feel.
To confess that for you my heart surely does burn,
And to any request, nay question, or anything I’ll kneel.

But surely it is better to have said
Exactly what I feel and cannot say,
These things words cannot seem to capture.
Although I blurt out “I love you.” Instead:
I see a gleam in your eyes that may
Be the passion, the love of yours that holds me in rapture.

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