You know the little things about me that would sing in the silence

I crave familiarity 
if only for           a night 
I want to feel that 
there is at least one little    human 
who knows me, 
all of me, my thoughts 
my feelings my body 
the little things I do 
when I'm angry, upset, 
                               smiling, laughing, crying. 

I miss you, but only because
you stand there so cruelly
always just out of reach 
when I try to touch you, you     s l i p away
as if you had not been there
only moments before
beckoning for me, telling me      sweet, beautiful lies.

There is but one person who would,
could know me like this, so far
away and such a gorgeous evil
that eludes me, always, forever
as promised by a fate sealed
long before I even knew that 
                                
                  fate existed 
                          (solely to wound).