LITTLE SECRET

The living room after a day so fatal

he’s there unravelling.

Black soles on the coffee table,

I succumb to his curious rambling.

Life has to go on

with or without you.

It’s a consolation to be

laughing with him.

Whatever hell you put me through

led me to his luminescent eyes,

they’re like morpho butterflies

everytime he smiles.

My mind lingers on

country roads, his red car.

The passion pit, its buttery scent.

His blush lips and trochaic speech.

All his eccentricities,

his timeless beauty,

have left me enchanted

but that’s a topic I’ve banned.

I don’t love him.

I won’t love him.

I can’t love him.

I don’t want to love him.

I want to hear about his day.

I want to hear him complain.

I want to hear his fastidious tirades.

I’ll listen to anything he wants to say.

My little crush,

he may burn down my house.

Still, I like his grin, his smart mouth,

his prideful sin - things I like, not love.

I’m caught in his web,

his anecdote floods within.

Wanting to drink up his time, keep his company.

Wanting this friendship for life, his infernal body.

Won’t follow that path,

can’t let him down.

Him going down on me -

I shouldn’t let my mind wonder

into a drenched fantasy.

I want to enjoy my nights with him

before the day I let him go.

Takeout dinners and

prolonged summers and

wishing for forever and

that we’ll never croak.