He slipped his hand into my hand
and I hated
myself

Hated the patterns I always fell into

He talked to me
He talked at me
To no fruition
For no part of me would listen

I close my eyes to listen to the water
the quiet water, gentle water, water keeping only the moon and
us as company

With my eyes closed tightly
He kissed me

He Stole a kiss from me
He stole from me

What is it. I would like to know

Such success at drawing so many in
Tempting them to touch, but no captivating prowess
like a venus flytrap with no teeth

Why am I always a stepping stone