I found 
the poems I wrote of you
when i first found 
beauty in your eyes
these strange odes to
lips
and nostrils
that neither time nor knowledge
can surmise
the meaning of
except that I was 
blind
to my own lust
and loneliness
to the limitations
in my mind
set by my obsession
with your attraction
and the idea
that you were just as
obsessed with me