My want of you

I am tired of chafing my heart against the want of you;
of finding words to express me,
of squeezing 26 letters to describe what I feel
Even as I sit in the solitude of my chair writing 
I hear clouds of thoughts move restlessly across my mind
Sunlight bends softly through my window
and I feel truth lurking in the shadows of the light
I am voiceless in the presence of epiphany.
It climbs onto my chair trying to comfort me with regret
caressing me with the fingertips of memory
and yet there is laughter in the promise of melancholy
as it finds me cold in the solitude
Of my chair

The irony of my epiphany
is the infinity of my consciousness
that I am trapped in a constant state of awareness
Here, veiled within doubts, I am caressed this time by the intimacy of illusion.
The fleeting color of your memory,
the soft scent of its touch,
and the music of a voice which flows over me warm with memory.
as perception lies between the dream and the dreaming
that I am awake