Lust Won't Break the Door

Every night, after I close my eyes,
I fall into situations in which you're there,
You're face a fist, clenched and trembling,
Your eyes seeing only what's behind me. . .

But not entirely;
Every so often they do dance across my face,
And I feel the hot pins of disdain they register.
You'll never know the ice-white light of eyes with devotion
dead behind them.

We'll never never never never never be even . . .