Fight it.
The feeling itches up your spine and makes you want to touch his hand.
Fight it.
Your knees go weak and shake under your flowing dress that dusts the floor at his feet.
This is the closest you will ever be to him.
Fight it.
His velvet lips are ****** to the touch of another set.
Fight it.
He touches your head where a thin scratch lines your scalp and you swear there is lightning in his fingertips as you feel his electricity pulsating through your fiery veins.
Fight it.
His words are soft and match his tamed heart resting in his chest while yours beats furiously.
Fight it.
You tell yourself that his hands aren’t the makers of your happiness and that he does not define your life from the second you wake up to the minute you fall asleep.
Or rather, the countless minutes you spend staring at that one unevenly colored section on your ceiling in the dim moonlight.
Fight it.
Your feelings are merely a replicate of every living person on this earth.
Love is a ruse that everyone falls for.
Fight it.
As he ices you out of his life with cruel silence, he doesn’t realize.
With a cold heart and a freezing desire for love, icing people out is your specialty.