Go ahead - Keep telling me to stop.
Let me know how deeply I'm hurting myself
By loving someone who can't love me back.
Don't you think I know that what I'm doing is wrong?

I shouldn't delight when my hand,
Moving against the pull of rationality,
'Accidently' touches his smooth, soft skin.
It's horrible that when his words
Call out my name is a velvet voice,
Nothing can stop me from calling back
And following it until I can be near him.
Maybe the pain that stabs my soul,
Piercing the thin membrane to break my heart,
Only there when he opens his dark, beautiful eyes
And locks me in their melting look,
Shouldn't be fed into and
Allowed to spread around my heart.

However, whenever I feel his skin,
Connect to his soul through physical touch,
I sense a response, faint and hesitant,
But still there, pulsing against my fingertips.
When I hear him call my name,
Under the tone, hidden within the velvet,
I sense a longing, a question
Dying to be answered, but never asked;
The same question burns a hole
Through my scarred and desperate soul:
What if?
I feel his eyes searching for mine
Across a room filled with people
Whispering frustratingly rational objections;
And I sense a burning desire
Barely held back by morals and insecurities.
It sears into my eyes; my blood
Boils and moves through my body
Until my soul, connected and sensitive,
Explodes into a fiery catastrophe
Of disappointed ashes.

And I can sense the same wildfire
Destroying his divided mind.

So keep telling me to stop.
Tell me that I'm hurting myself.
But, please also consider
Giving him the same advice.

12/05/2008

Posted on 12/06/2008
Copyright © 2025 Lyss Copeland