Poetica

Why should I own him?

I am not that inquisitive, but now that I am querying myself: Why should I own him? Why him? It is not that easy to justify, even though I am competent with flowery words, scribbling romance novels, and even though I am capable enough with my vocabulary to state my guff. When in the actuality of existence, my entire imaginations are just a speck of dust. My own plots are playing and being applied on myself like, boom!

I'm screwed.

Have you known that feeling or perception when you can't trust yourself because you might harm him, that you can make his life miserable, but for the rest of the moment, you just want him in your arms? It is illegal, being attracted to someone that you are aghast to get bruised because of you. Though you can feel that your senses are true enough when it is illegal; when you know that it is prohibited and outlawed.

I am longing for his existence. I am in need of his presence, kisses, hugs, yet I know that I can't have it yet. My eyes are tempted to see his face; I could just stare at him all day measuring his lips, pointed nose and his shining orbs.

My nose is finding his remarkable, lasting scent that still lingers in my room and everywhere in my place. Since he has materialized in my life, I couldn't just remove his essence that went straight to my consciousness. It was fastened in my mind, just like him being stuck in my heart.

My ears wanted to hear his voice saying those three words, or his voice saying my name sweetly, murmuring savory statements while I'm sleeping, or sometimes, I am imagining that he just like to call me with my name — staring deep into my orbs, making me understand what is in his mind.

My lips — the ones that are tempted to kiss him or making him feel special. I could kiss him that slow, and passionate, making him feel all the love I got just for him. I could mutter all the words in my mind just for him to be sure on how much I love him, or how much I care for him. That even if I am away, or even I am just not around, all he can think of is my face and my remarks. That he can't get me out of his mind ever.

My touch —If he'll let me, I could just clasp him into my arms all day just because I want to— I yearn to make him feel special because he is one a hell significant for me. He's that limited, and extraordinary that I myself know that I shouldn't let him go. He is marked for me, and I know that I am destined to be with him.