To taste you is like to taste death
only sweeter on my tongue.
I can only describe this feeling
when I fit you into my dreams.
I make the error of wishing
on not the wishing well,
but rather the forbidden fruit.
Yet who shall be granted a wish such as that?
I found that touching burns my soul.
Yet I would rather scald out my eyes
than to let an inch of your bliss go unnoticed.
So I can do neither without the other.
I want to rip you apart
and lay you on my mind.
I want to feel your skin
on my lips.
I find you this way every night.
So why not in the daylight
when you are real?
Why always in my dreams and not my hands?