Wholeheartedly

Stranger, I'm sorry.

I haven't met

You yet,

but when I do,

I'm afraid that all I'll feel

is warm limbs

and dusted lips.

Again, I'm sorry,

but not wholeheartedly.

Too much at stake.

I've too much time

that cannot be spared.

And these flames,

they won't dissipate.

I can't have it happen

because when it does

these feet will be doused

and my heart will explode

from not running about.

You'll become them,

my passions,

and, needless to say,

they're jealous of me.

They cannot share.

I am so loved.

I am so loved.

I'll shut it out,

You, for now, because

I'm afraid it may come too soon.

I pray you know that

I can't amble yet.

I've still too much to do.

Request permission to use this poem

Hello PoetryVoting