Madame Bovary

if only being your wife
would satisfy
my insatiable
thirst of life
if only being your wife
would bring
you
to the brink of ecstasy
but you lay dormant by the window
while I fly away enwrapped in wind
Open the shutters
the silken curtains
and Come
before the rain curtails the chase
and there is nothing but a glass pane
where
your reflection
is but a gaze