ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ᴘᴏᴇᴛʀʏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ :)

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We touch, every smudge of our fingerprints mingling together in an (em)pathetic dance of misery, each melody cursed out by your name as it indulges in my delusions. Would it be any different if I chose to linger on those feelings? 

An individual trace along my thigh, sometimes I wonder if I'd be worth it if you'd touch me in between there too, where you'd be able to see each vulnerable part of me, 
Be able to treasure me like I treasure you.

But you don't exist.

Each gap between us widens, further than the distance I can grasp with my hands,
Each brush of our fingertips only widening them.

Must it be so unfortunate, wallowing in self-pity, regretting the past as if it ever made a difference?

A capillary of fate, something so minute shifting into something incomprehensibly tangled the moment I attempt to grasp an opinion on it,
Each shift of my desires forcing you to become undone, bewildered, yet still so far from me.
Must you be so feel such real emotions whilst you are a figment of reality, of something that simply yet does not exist?

My heart does not beat for you, yet it yearns experience.
My body aches, and it remains insatiable.
Incoherent whispers that nag me; you remain untouchable, something so lovely and futuristic for my current mindset; I do not deserve you.

What must I do to truly feel your hands on me,
Something so pure compared to the corrupted mindset I own?

Will I remain fucked up, yearning, whilst you swim in the ocean of ignorance,
Neglecting me?