Sometimes her melancholy wounds me…sometimes it arouses me in ways that it probably should not.
She floats through my consciousness and just outside of my grasp, her laughter and her tears coloring my perceptions.
I want to hold her…I want to tell her it’s gonna be alright. I want to comfort her…I want to feel her shuddering underneath me, whispering my name, in the passionate folds of a warm and humid night.
I want to set her to flight…I want to gather her into my arms and keep her forever safe from the cruelty of the mean streets and the unforgiving world. I want to bathe in the light from her dark eyes and luxuriate in the glory of her most guileless smile.
She fills me…she teases me…she inflames me…she doesn’t think of me that way at all.
She moves me…for all that will and will not be…she moves me.
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