I might seem
unaffected.
I am anything
but.
I want to know you but I also feel
the mystery is
more intoxicating.
This is a new type of
lust:
more controlled,
but still
perilous.
I look at your picture
and imagine
the things I want to do
to you.
I know you want to do
those things to me too.
But I know
it's better we don't.
Because the moment
I feel your lips on my neck
and
smell your hair
and
touch your muscles
and
put my lips around your cock
that spell will be broken.
I'll be forced to see
who you really are:
deeply flawed and broken
like me.
I already feel your pull,
even now
it's only a meager current
but
I won't let myself drown.
I want to delete all traces of you
from my phone
and block you
and
I shouldn't even talk to you.
But I ache for your body,
not your soul.
I want to conquer you
and be used.
And the things
I should do versus
what I want are a stark
contrast.
For now only
my fantasies
will feed me.
