What I Wouldn't Do

What I wouldn't do
for that sweat to be for me,
head lowered,
bitten lower lip,
eyes closed,
ecstasy closer,
pushing you over
with a brush of nail
gently, so gently
over flesh.

What I wouldn't do
for the howling wind
to take me up high
and float me
over the trees,
over the water,
into that room
and brighten with a smile
only my joy would bring
(or so I've been told)
for more than a day,
for every second
left in my life.

What I wouldn't do
to choose differently
from that night
when I stopped trying
to listen
to know
to hope
and to love
what I couldn't see,
to truly believe
reality would match
this fantasy.