If I’d never met you, I’d not feel this way I do. I wouldn’t wonder why you affect me so. I wouldn’t think twice about myself or mind my ways. I would just get on with myself; without you.
You are the pauses I make, the words I don’t say, the interruptions I have.
I can’t forget or loose you, no matter how I try to look away, I cannot. Like an infection, my affection with you hurts. I am drowning. You are the water I drink and the water in my lungs.
The real depths of man slowly slides from view as he evaporates with his thoughts. All my sensitivities and peculiarities fade with me. Like colours running in the wash confuse; you are taking all of me from me.
Perhaps the power that eminates from you will fade in time?
How long to the summit? I climb my imitation hill – never mind my bleeding fingers, the fascination of of you is all too distracting, as is the rash of you. Shall I fall?
No, I will prevail.