What a special kind of hell it is.
To have feelings so
Potent and unwavering.
They swirl you around in a fog
You don't want to be clear from.

To experience everyday
The anxious temptation
Of opening your eyes
Just wide enough
To reveal the barely restrained
Longing.

If the light catches just right,
A heated glimpse
Becomes an unearthed inferno...
But doubtful reciprocation
Keeps you blinking.
This paradox of behavior inside...

To visually roam.
From point to point,
But not touch.
To inhale,
Hovering next to me
But not taste.
It's maddening,
Thrilling.

It's leaking out of my actions
The longer I hold this in.
What's most of all frustrating
Is not knowing,
What you think.
You can't be that unaware.
Is it teasing or unconscious projections?

Regardless,
I catch myself mimicking
And analyzing
And hoping
And
And
And...

Why yes, what a special hell this is.



*© NDHK