to not touch her

 Another tear to fall.

 Another tear to shred my weathered heart.

 Now a desperate vacancy haunted by a phantom love;

borrowed but not returned.

  Felt by thine eyes alone; weeping, parched. By a comfort

bittersweet in its fullness encompassed within a boundary

adjacent the farthest of arms reach.

  This harrowed hail of a hand-maidens cumbersome

 grievances lie next to the barren shields of bounty; the

rotten fruit, not to be picked, as a reminder that some

shores of distant lands are not to be conquered.

  As well some of the gifts of  providence are not safely

nestled within the home.

  A hearth that burns evermore, fed by the energy of lust and

loneliness as fuel from a blossoming romance no matter

how brief or unrequited.

  Every flutter of my chest with each breath pumps blood

through the veins to the pulmonary archway where, for no

time at all, it waits to enter into

 the kingdom of my heart.