It’s so close beneath the surface. I can feel it there, boiling, writhing, tortured by distant fires of longing that are a constant part of me. Such a powerful gift rendered by haunting memories of you. Separated by more miles than I can count, I can only sink into the darkness closed eyes offer – wishing, remembering, lusting after precious wisps of memory.
 
Silence broken by a scream of anguish heard only by my soul and yours draws an exorable link between us. The look in my eyes gives the only evidence my cry was released in a quiet, private desperation. Sitting in silence, the echoes of my lament fade into solitary seclusion. I can feel your presence. I can feel you reaching from the prison of your own reality. Reach. Reach out for me, my love. Pull me to you. I know you're there.
 
Distracted by a scent long since departed, I remember it like it was a mere moment ago. I hunger for your trembling lips to yield under mine. All that's primary to my reality slips to idle and I'm lost once again in the chaos of past choices made. I ponder going to Hell for those very same choices. No matter, without you, I'm there even now. Hell is private, unshared, and totally unforgiving; blatantly ignoring whatever illogic or denial used to nullify the surety of its sentence.
 
Unfinished love from four centuries ago drives me to the edge of insanity, forcing me to challenge the burden of breaking rules of this lifetime to keep a promise made long ago. There is no option but to challenge the forbidden rightness of our flash of secret ecstasy, defying all that’s wrong with so much that’s right. The strength of your arms holding me validates my mission insisting that Hell deserves much less than either of us.