Je t’aime, j’adore,
I love you with a craving love
and you dance in my vision
to burn yourself bright in my memories,
tripping and tumbling through my thoughts
and filling me with shivers of want.
What is this love like craziness?
This love like a sickness we might try to deny
by closing our eyes and counting to ten.
But I could count to one million,
forever ticking fingers, and it would not change
the way you leave me hungry, eating red grapes,
salted brie, white wine with fresh greens
and tortellini in an attempt to fill a space
that is shaped for you, shaped by you,
trembling between my ears as if you were plucking a cello
and it hummed to your alto, your liquid growl.
What is this love like intoxication?
I am drunk on you, your fire, your eyes, your insides
and your thousand secret sighs.
There can be no understanding -
amour is only the certainty of insanity,
of consuming, of worship
(mais je ne le connais jamais).