My lover has no name,

his story has no end. 

If only I knew how to think,

then I'd know where to begin. 

He's so incomplete

the missing piece

from a puzzle that's been discarded. 

He tells me I'm the exception, 

the only one he believes in. 

I try to comprehend the motives

behind his meaning, 

the reasons behind 

the design he's creating. 

The cadence of his words

is better than a dream

and I'll only close my eyes

if he is asleep.