I loved him for this reason alone:
that his passion could meet my own intensity.
I wanted to know what it would be like
to be loved with the same intoxication
that I could feel for another.
(Could it not be said
that I was in love with my own love?
That I was intoxicated
with my own intoxication?)
But there was no substance,
no bedrock to ground us.
We were only fever and feeling,
nothing but a tidal wave
and leaving disaster
in its wake.