Your hands were not bound, your feet were not fettered.
You fell as one falls before the wicked.
2 Samuel 3:34, NIV
* * *
There’s nothing comfortable
about this relationship.
It’s not even a relationship.
It’s just passion.
I’m a passionate person.
You’re a passionate person.
Well, you’re not really a person,
but you were a person
and sometimes I see that
and I like you.
Then I remember
all the harm you’ve done.
All the sadness and destruction
at your hands.
I don’t know what’s come over me
(desire)
(mad desire)
to love a man like you.
But you’re not a man
and I don’t love you.
From behind,
you slip your arms around me.
Fingers slither down my arm.
Slowly
down my thighs.
Then up.
And I’m lost.
If they knew,
they’d think me mad.
I’ve got it bad.
But you’re dead.
I’m dead inside.
When you’re inside,
I feel.
Something.
It’s okay if I love you,
but I don’t.
It’s okay if I don’t.
And I can’t.
It’s wrong
I’m wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.