I am hypnotized by
the dark brownish light of yr eyes,
pampered, seemingly indolent though raving-mad;
innocently sighed I could do nothing.

It is but a shadow that talks stalk.
It is as though but a hopeless dream that an imaginary me walks
- clouds of deepset longing and deserts of wanting etc -
like a great poet rambled it "drifts like a poor (drunken) little boat."

I want you in order to begin to want and like and hold and love you,
but I did not find the rarity you earlier in the scarcity of the world,
the sealed fidelity I suppose, cogito ergo sum*
if not so, would you then find me here?