We want it so,
but then again
we don't want it,
We carve for it in stone,
and we crawl for it
but only in the dark
and almost only after midnight,
We burn for it
and we urn for it
like daggers
for self inflicted wounds,
piercing cried rivers,
We only want it half ways
we only in reaches of haze
and we only like it
if everybody else does,
We want it so…
but only on full moons
And only when
we’re alone with each other.