She stares at me
intent eyes pleading,
question lingering
and her very core
hanging on my answer.

Why her, she'd asked,
her gaze unwavering
reading my expression,
looking for signs
of truth? Of hope?

In silence I search
for words to capture
the surge of bliss
that rises within me
because she asked.

How do I describe
such a visceral response
I feel in her presence
as my heart races
and my mouth dries?

When she is near
only thoughts of her,
but I've grown to know
when she is not near
only thoughts of her.

Bonds once vibrant
now hollow and empty
sloughing off my heart,
falling away because
they are not her.

A match I've never felt,
a sense of completion;
overwhelming urges
of possessiveness
and belonging here.

Flames burn behind
these eyes that stare
back at me, intense
with a heat finally
matching my own.

I realize my answer
when she asks why her.
Consumed as I am,
why anyone else
when she exists.