You keep me torn inside.
I think about you. Our conversations, the goofy parts, the heart to hearts. The ones that bore me. The ones that make me roll my eyes because you go overboard thinking I’m okay with certain subjects and it only feeds my insecurity.
I think about you. How we just chill, not speaking. Watching something or touching. How I just breathe you, you I and we are just in this moment. How we lean into each other, hold each other and melt away all the shit that keeps us from doing this.
I think about you. How you twist my insides, because I’m supposed to leave you in the past. I’m supposed to walk away, not miss you, your touches or kisses. This is what I wanted, right? I’m just not suppose to still love you, lust you…whatever it is I do you.
Now a pandemic separates us on top of everything else.
I need to use this moment to get closer to my God, but I swear by the name of this fire inside you could easily be that thing that pushes me to the very tip of blasphemy.
But all I want is who you are.
But who you are, is someone elses and can’t have you.