This is not what you think.

This is what I think.
I think,
I am in love with a ghost.
The spirit of what wasn't.
She is not what I believed.
What I wanted to believe.
Oh, I wanted to, but she,
She is not.

Now this thing before me wears
your hair, your skin, your smell, your smile.
It is in the eyes that I see, my love has gone.

I gave you something that was mine to give,
but it was not yours to take.
Now my giving takes more.
I offer you this pound of flesh.
It is the choice meats;
The tender center.

Love, let us speak of Love a while.
May our clumsy words perfect.
May our Perfect Words perform.
May we lie in bed,
and in our lying, may we whisper truths.
May we lie in bed?
I have lied in many places, our bed is not exempt.
I have shown you many faces, all in my attempt
to earn the right to know.

May we know?
May we know what lies before us?
May we know. What lies before us!
What lies, indeed.
What truth and beauty, too.
May we know what lies behind?
May it be behind, ever close to the back of our mind.

Love, let us speak no more.
Let us only touch.
May we know too much.