I am resisting the intrigue
Nodding off to the idea of it
Apprehension in entertaining the idea
I am speculating it will not be like nails on a chalkboard
Still dreading to flirt with the theory
Concentration like a bullet to my head
A circus of misery minds.

Aiming with my silver sword, ready to combat
My defenses drop, not a soul present
Perhaps a withdrawal?
I find not a body and face but mine
Timid to smile
Could this be a pleasing soft affair?