Secrets

and I’m sitting here, and my mind is blank, save for you.

I want to write about something captivating, intriguing, important – and all I can think about is you.

Still you.

After all this time, you.

The same you, the very same.

You.

Memories ebb away, blurred, distorted. Feelings remain unscathed. Progressively veiled, yes, but consistent in strength.

Can you feel this fire inside me?

Your light burns bright and blistering in my soul.

So beautiful, yet so destructive.

It needs no fuel nor air.

This self-sufficient flame contains the very best of you. The parts that you gave to me by accident and then hid away so suddenly.

But you cannot steal them back now, it’s too late, they belong to me.

And I will remember. You can never forget.

To walk away is sacred.

To revel, a sin.

But I am too weak in your presence.

Your righteousness, a magnet.

Your sexuality radiating all over me.

Your weaknesses shielded by a glistening halo.

And your scent.

Your scent – it’s everywhere.

It seeps through my logic and suffocates my doubts.

Drugging my sanity.

Contaminating clarity so carelessly. Heartlessly. Effortlessly.

And you don’t even know it.

And you can never know it.