The Question

There is a question,

That is burning in my soul,

Giving me indigestion,

And stealing my control,

It’s lighting up the darkness,

With incandescent beams,

Trailing flames of radiance,

That scorches all my seams,

*

There is a question,

That is burning in my soul,

Giving me inspiration,

And freeing my control,

Words I have not spoken,

Remain a silent plea,

For caresses purely vocal,

Can only torture me,

*

There is a question,

That is burning in my soul,

Giving me stimulation,

That you alone control,

Tasting your intention,

Given by a languid touch,

Fuels the burning question,

Am I really good enough?