It wouldn’t be so bad if you held my hand.
It wouldn’t be so wrong if you held me tight.
It wouldn’t be crazy if you kissed me with passion.
It wouldn’t be outrageous if you cradled my heart as if it might break.
But you won’t and you can’t.
It wouldn’t be possible for me to let you do those things.
I am incapable of being satisfied,
with lingering kisses, gentle caresses or silky words.
I have come undone.
My heart is stone, my eyes always wander.
My hands hold,
never will they be held.
A storm grows inside of me.
My thunder is only temporary,
my passion an electric current.
Isolation insulates me, from the likes of you and the others,
keeping destruction at bay.
My Kisses will always be fleeting, a quick flutter of wings, an imagined sensation.
I am sorry.
I am sorry that you held on to faith,
I am not a believer, I have no allegiance
other than the one forged by pain,
with the Goddess of Self-Preservation.
I can not be
Not now, not ever.
It would have been nice if given the chance it could be so.
It would have been charming to find myself suddenly complete.
It would have been a miracle to have quenched my thirst, a miracle to have satiated yours.
Unfortunately, I do not believe in miracles,
just flickering fantasy.
Photo: ©Julie Anderson All Rights Reserved