I want you. I need you.

Myself, I fear that dreamless solitude
will cut the ties that bind me to the past:
the wild, chimeric demons I pursued,
perpetuating rôles in which I cast
myself. I fear that dreamless, dead impasse:
it forces me to contemplate a fate
reflected like a mirage in a glass.
It forces me to calculate the weight
you took from me – the burden of self-hate
you folded into two, and hid away.
You dreamed the dreams that faith and hope create,
you dreamed those three short words I cannot say.
And though your dreams still wrap me in their spell,
to speak the naked truth is hard as hell.