by Sophie Masse 
Rated PG 


My heart races each week, 
The reason eluding most of my friends. 
Do they realize it's for you it quickens? 
Races and beats when you're there, 
Shrinks and withers when you're away. 
Do they realize it's for you I hunger for, 
And not soup or spice pudding?  
Sitting across me and singing praises 
To writers I care nothing for. 
Offering me smiles and teases 
For which my heart longs for. 
Do they realize food is forgotten 
In those tender rare moments we are together? 
Do they know I was never a lover of food, 
Other than that you provide in wit and wile? 
What did I eat today? 
What did we talk about? 
How odd. 
I seem to have forgotten all meals, 
All noise and all words 
Other than those of mute passion and longing. 
Those ever-changing eyes of yours 
Telling me more than your clever words, 
Shouting the same desire I whisper. 
Oh yes, my love, I see it. 
But I wait. 
Same time next week ... 
My heart already flutters for it. 


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