What If

I’ve been turning this over, and
over, (and again) in my mind. It’s been lingering, slowly waiting in the
crevice of my mind… mind yourself. Mind myself. Mind the people in the other
room and you whisper, “I’ll think of you tonight.” And I know that you couldn’t
tell a lie to me, and if you did, in my delusional state, I would willingly
believe you. You. You are here and there and everywhere to me. Creeping ,
watching, brooding, speaking to me through songs that you spoke of once before.
Speak, speak. Clandestine conversations of lust and power and sorrow and-
everything that I love most about you. Oh, the words. Deep and meaningful,
playful, coy, desire…
 
I’ve been turning this over, and
over, (and again) in my mind. That night that you stayed behind. I waited. We
waited for them to leave. Impatiently, perfectly, unacceptable, perfect. My car
or yours? Mine tonight. You ease in, you look so calm. It’s chilly out; my
minds on fire. You speak and my adrenaline kicks in. You speak, and my gaze is
upon your eyes, your lips, your… Now back to your eyes and a cinnamon warmth
spreads through my entire body. I lean to get my coat in the backseat, brushing
you hard, warm on contact, intentional—but pretended to be as innocent as all
of this. As innocent as my thoughts. My thoughts.
 
I’ve been turning this over, and
over, (and again) in my mind. That night. That day. All of those that don’t
happen anymore. All of the bad things. All of the bad things that were so good,
too good. Too good to go for. I’m left with what-ifs and still, a lust for you.