Suppressed patterns

I'm sane, I'm un-uttered
Beyond self mortifying metaphors
replete with cliches of prejudice
I'm the dream you had for alienation
The dreading yet coveted loneliness
Streaming from eyelids, then dripping down
Slowly. The moist chin of stoic nights.
With the advent of stealth solitude
And people, one to greet, another to flirt
Till the unravished pride rips apart-
Ah. Bittersweet taste of skin
Losing to an external flesh
Epicurean acceptance , an opaque mirror?
But believe the absolute, not the relative
I belong to you.
I belong to you absolutely
There is no imagination in the silence of nature
But in my words, in the humming interlude
The heart of woman, unlike its stony counterpart
Needs love, no ambitions
And together we will befriend
The lonely solitude, the lyricism of silence.