I would like to know a woman well again.
And would like her to know me just as well.
Each of us to know the other
honestly, completely, openly
Know in such a way that would never
allow the wonder of that knowing
to fade away with age
into some manufactured flimsy
of what it once had been.
Then what we had between we two
would never sour.
We'd bear no witness to its full bodied lustiness
paling to some dried and shrunken thing,
starved of sustenance,
shrivelling and dying,
to smother, with its dry and celibate corpse,
our anthem to humanity.
Our song of joy and triumph.
And so, before allowing that soft sweetness
to toughen and turn bitter,
we would say goodbye.
With smiles and hugs and kisses.
And neither she nor I
would ever think to hesitate
to love again.