~𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓶𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱~

mine.

Him,

I love him. 

I know it sounds crazy but I do. 

I can't have him as I wish,

and he can't love me as I dream.

But at least I still have my imagination. 

Every part of him is lovely.

Eyes, lips, body.

Although others may not think so, I do.

But his intelligence is what I find to be most attractive.

When he looks at me, he knows just what he does. 

He knows I have desire, 

so he teases, 

and teases, 

because he knows I can't have him. 

It's something forbidden, him and I. 

Only a dream, 

and that's forever what will remain,

a dream. 

A hope that one day, 

his hands will be holding mine,

his eyes will linger on me, 

his lips will kiss mine.

The dream seems so true yet so unreal. 

So I sit here, 

thinking, 

writing, 

wishing,

thinking, 

longing,

hoping,

that one day, 

the dream will come true. 

But once again, 

that's all it is, 

a dream. 

Right? 

I feel as though we have significant moments in time.

Where our eyes meet,

hands brush,

laughter shared, 

they become frozen moments in time.

I wish I could stay behind and freeze them forever. 

Less than three months and it's all gone, 

forever. 

What will I do when he's gone? 

When all of it's gone.

No inspiration,

no happiness,

no love, 

no searching for old pictures, 

no recording encounters, 

no over-talking him to acquaintances.

No. Obsessions. 

Is that what this all is?

Just an eccentric obsession. 

Or is it really love?

If what I feel, is mine, 

If I do nothing bizarre to act upon this fixation,

Is it really all that bad? 

Or am I still to be labeled as insane,

and crazy, 

and demented?

I guess I'll leave that up to the world. 

While I'm here, 

thinking,

writing,

wishing,

thinking,

longing,

hoping, 

that one day, 

one day he'll give all that he has up, 

to be mine, 

and only mine.