My brain is wrapped around you.
Every thought consists of you;
Every thought leads to you.
I cannot escape.
You are sweetly suffocating me.
I am coming up for air,
But all I get is lungfull after lungfull of you.

Is this what it feels like to be,
what they call,
"hanging on by a thread"?
Tenaciously clinging to some faint hope that you still want me?
My raw parts?
My shattered self?
I am grasping for
some inkling,
some sign,
some act that will show you still care.
You have left me completely numb and without good reason.

I woke up wanting you again.
I woke up and I wanted to feel you
In any and every way possible.

I woke up wanting to touch you.
Your skin; your hair; your soul.

I woke up wanting your arms around me.
A straight jacket confining and keeping me all to yourself.  
Keeping me away from the harm I could do if free.

Enter yesterday:
"Don't *touch me," I snap.
I'm doing it again.  I'm pushing you away. Totally cognizant, too.
"Oh, okay," your sadness is evident throughout your sagging frame; your visage.
Your hands slide from my rib cage, down my curves, to my hips (just touching a square inch of exposed skin) where, after lingering momentarily as if to say "I still want you", they go straight into your pockets. Their home. Another safe haven. One not on my body.
I pretend to be aloof to your obvious hurt, when all I really want is more than hands on hips can satisfy.

*So this is my reaction to love I don't believe I deserve.
This is my reaction to fear. Fear of so much attraction and attachment all in one titanic burst of feeling.
So much of every possible positive feeling--and I feel it towards you.
So confusing and so overtaking, my only practical thought is that I must get away from it.
Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll get away from it.

"In a moment, it will be our moment. The part I waited for. Her hands crept and her face crept, until the closeness was unbearable.  As I am longing for her lips, she is running. My body is becoming closer and closer as I chase and I chase. And then embrace. Her arms encompass, and her lips take me. Her beauty enamors me. My hands on her hips and her body as close as can be, her bare skin, it trusts me. Her eyes engulf me. And I want nothing else, except for these precious seconds not to leave."

"Her beauty I've never understood.  The strongest pull I know of is the one that draws me to her. She's part of me, And I can't stand to be away from her. She wouldn't believe me if I told her, but the beauty of another is laughable by comparison. No matter who it is, they do not provide competition. Her love is a strong hold, it is a condition of mind, it is a spell, that has no hope of weakening.  Her body is gold. Rubies. And my greed is insatiable except for by her. For her I have longed. Only for her.  She is my prize, my goal."

Loudly, mercisly, the storm cloud
Stalks overhead in his dark temper.
This way, and that, he terrorizes; he reigns
Over concrete cities and somber souls.
Blowing and abolishing vibrant dreams
Of the sun into a neutral nothingness.

Your eyes, they watch me, following every wrong move I so naively make.  
Tempting,
p u l l i n g,
prodding,
phasing me; blinding and obscuring my, at one point, 20/20 vision.  
You have kicked me while I am down.  
How could I have been so stupid?  
"You want me.  We both know it," you whisper into my untrained ears, unsure brain and straight into my wayfaring heart.  
You invite me closer
and
no matter how much I despise myself for it, I am continually choosing you over the One I really and truly desire.  
Why do I do that?