Self Portrait

A time, a place, a state of heart,
an ever fleeting work of art.
I love, I lose, I fall apart,
You pick up pieces; recapture, restart.

Desire to stay, desire to go,
But still, desire, I hardly know.
So torn between the things I claim,
The things that I want; such a selfish game.

Within this flesh I lie awake,
But dead to it, yearning, I wait.
I am at home; home I am not
A relative term (that’s what I’ve been taught).

Use me, love me, and know me still
Despite what I want, I do want your will.
While I am here, here I am yours
So today, it is you I will choose to adore.