In The Presence

I mourn the ruby
of your lips, the pearl
between your thighs.
Such precious treasures,
I cannot have.

In the presence,
not mine,
yet you are in the thorn,
the bud, the dark, the light,
in the elegance of the moon,
and the heartbeat of a planet,
subtle and vivid,
frustrating and euphoric,
therefore in secret,
I've named you,
my love.

For who is to say
what is fantasy,
and what is reality?
Since your departure,
not a day passes
that I do not recreate you
in my imagination,
succeeding to capture
the coldness, the warmth,
the ambiguity of your heart,
and pureness of your smile,
within the dungeon of my heart,
to accompany me,
until the day
I die.