Drawn

I find myself coming back to you, thought-wise, and it’s only a moment before I’ll be near you, body-wise. I’ve shifted my focus to other things but you’re always in my background, in my ear, whispering. I don’t want to give in to my feelings lest I come across as desperate. I don’t want to give up because, well, you’ve made quite an impression on me, and that I have these feelings lets me know I’m alive. So, I sit still, on my hands until they’re numb, until I can’t reach out to you. Yet, somehow, I always capitulate and my heart wins. I don’t know whether I should feel this way. I barely know you. Is this what they (the ubiquitous they) call ‘chemistry’? For now, it’s only on my side. For now. I don’t know how you feel. So, not chemistry. Biology (how unsexy)? Yes. Yearnings and hungers, so many hungers. Maybe not just for now. I’m not so full of myself that I’ll project my desires onto you. Maybe this is it, maybe there’ll be more (I fucking hope so!) For now, I’ll let you be my muse, I’ll search for you in secret, and in my deepest places, love you, in secret. And hope that, somehow, my secrets will become our secrets, and I won’t have to search for you in secret, and love you in secret.

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