You showed me my hunger
brought it to life
with the exquisite pain of love.

You turned my cool blood
into a churning river
embracing the lie of nothing is too much:

Not even this hunger.
Not even this love.
Not even this passion,
this drowning together
in the swirling madness
of too many dark years,
too much emotional famine.

It is a pain so exquisite
we forget the scars,
the buried wounds,
the impossible future.

We drink each other,
feast on our despair,
turn our longing into love,
and part clinging in the night.

We are caught

 by the promise of next time.