that makes me desire you so much?
Is it the vanity
of wanting you
in love
with me?

Is it
that I see,
what the world sees,
and that you,
have such a hard time
believing?
And is it vanity,
that I want the world to see,
that you,
have chosen me?

Is it love I want?
Yes, of course.
But I also want
the wide eyes of your awe,
the thrill of your respect.

Is it vanity,
that I should
think so highly
of myself -
that I could even imagine,
you,
with me?

That I,
of all people,
fantasize
about getting down on
one knee.

That I,
of all people,
want to place my hand
on your belly.

What is it
you have done to me?
Stripped me of pretenses
and any false hope;
rid me of humility,
and left me,
with nothing else
but this endless,
and aching,
vanity.