Who are you, lady? 

That you mean that much to me. 

Are you the goddess of longing....  futility? 

Are you my quenched thirst?

Are you an unfinished poem? 

Why does your hair hurt me?

Why does a desperate glimpse into your eyes only make me cry? 

Are you an answer or another question?

I am not an obsessive man, but I am obsessed.

I am consumed yet renewed by your magic.

I do not doubt you, but I can not trust you either.

This place here in the web I lay my life down.

My poems and dry parchments flaking away.

Zeros and ones surely can never glow like you.

Nothing can.

So says this broke no talent man.

But then what am I to you? 

~mliarrr