Pining

They press invisible on me

Yearning

The smell of unwished desire

Is cloying

A manly hunger for love

Understanding

Carnality

sometimes fills the air around me insistent.

No Lady Macbeth I

No knife at hand

I do not cut

Or kill

And yet

I am repelled.

For pining bespeaks weakness

Cloud-topped castles

Fleet dreams

Cold rain

Secretive dark touch

And so, what'er befall us

You and I who count our words

The strict currency of candor

I will not pine

For you.