I hurt;
I hurt in ways that I cannot say aloud for fear it will consume the air in the room;
I hurt with a hundred little cuts that pull open whenever I try to move within this ‘skin’;
I hurt when I smile as the sheer falsity of it renders it void;
I hurt when people claim they hurt but in reality know nothing of real pain;
I hurt…

I ache;
I ache for a time when the pain wasn’t real;
I ache for respite and for a light at the end of a tunnel;
I ache with muscles that long to be used but are instead withered to naught;
I ache to smile for a reason and not for someone else’s;
I ache…

I hurt;
I hurt when I am not with you...
I ache;
I ache when you are not in my flesh…

And now I can smile…thinking of you…my release...
the pain begins to recede…

I miss her in ways she would not fathom,
Yet she isn’t mine to miss…
She holds my attention
From that first stolen kiss…

Her heart is my wish
Her body my desire…
Ill hold her hand always
With a passion and fire…

She isn’t my own
Yet she professes to be…
I’ll woo her with my love
And hope she chooses me…