Not me.

In hellish abeyance I stare in dismay at a colorful picture familiar to me,

that brutally fades into many a shade of harrowing greys, of heart agony.

As you are laid down, caressed is your skin,

your breath inundated with lust.

The tongue and the teeth, the pulls and the thrusts

in a land without sorrow nor sin.

I levitate out of my being to reach a release I’d never foreseen:

an unprecedented sensation of wild agitation arousing in me.

In my imagination you’re biting your lips so severely you’re cracking your skin

Uncontrollably shiver your hips as your neck twitches back and you suddenly scream.

As your knees lose their will you realize with a chill that your body’s no longer your own

So you let it all in as your heart melts within, unaware, while mine turns to stone.

My head in my hands, my stomach on fire,

ravaging flashes of darkness and light

are lashing against me and winning the fight

with a lost, hypocritical liar.

How am I to remove this tormenting depiction

the haunting description of the pictures I see?

Will time really heal? Though past it’s no fiction,

a ferocious and cruel fantasy.

A vicious, recurring, invasive affliction that simply will not let me be…

…you making love to someone... not me!