When I am with you... I feel weak; yet for you I could move mountains. I feel afraid, and yet nothing scares me. I want to speak, but my lips can only stumble around, stuttering out thier nonsense. I wish to touch your beautiful face, but my hand is stilled by guilt. It is the guilt of being imperfect, yet desiring closeness with one as beautiful and perfect as you. This guilt has rendered me useless; this fault has rendered me unworthy. There is the chance you will come to me, but the question is: will this guilt allow me to be with one as perfect as you? Then again, what would your perfection have to do with one as horrid and revolting as me. For what does light have in common with the darkness? I tell you there is nothing; yet you have come to me, not needing, but wanting me. Oh, how sweet it is to be wanted! How sweet it is to be desired! Now I want for nothing.Nothing, except to be with you, my friend, my lover, my God.