Weave me
into your splendid colours
and infuse me
in your delusions

With the vehemence
of a sleeper
throw in the fire
of your leonine grace

I am an empty cup
and my spirit yearns
for the intermittent light
of a dreamy flight

I long for a kiss
under twilit canopies
and sepulchral mist,
I long with a sibilant fist

And for every
unreciprocated tremble
I strop the scythes
of my death even sharper

Norman Santos

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-long-for-a-kiss/