pages torn apart

Memories are shattered glass  
just pages torn apart  
They haunt me with their brokenness  
How often must I recollect  
the way it feels to be with you?  
If I could but purge it from my head...  
My heart it seems
is inexplicably entwined  
with the yearnings of my baser senses  
So much so  
that even though  
I could not say you've ever loved me  
there is nothing that I would not do  
for another taste of you