You

The essence of an emotion,
Half-baked, vaguely known
Visits the deepest trenches
Of innocence;
Of unfortunate ignorance.
The flight of words
Finds salvation
In another’s arms,
While the beholder
Waits with a lit candle
And the patience of a saint.
What use is this patience,
I so often wonder?
When all I can do this moment
Is force myself to stay alive
And hope that tomorrow
Brings with it you,
And all of you.
For all of me
Is creaking with pain,
Without you.
So, come, and
Fill my life
With life.
For it is so relatively,
And yet, so absolutely
Colorless without you.
Starkly naked, this life.