I want

I want, but I don’t
unless they just won’t
as if it’s the chase that I seek

and often the thrill –
when they say they will –
soon dies from this lack of mystique

it’s something quite strange
a radical change
for one who was rarely so meek

to feel passion’s lust
like ashes and dust
return to conditions so weak

but not a surprise
to your loving eyes
which noted without harsh critique

disinterest it’s not
but fear that’s begot
from havoc desires can wreak

no cure, but a kiss
you offered for this
as softly your lips touch my cheek
and somewhere, some part   
of my broken heart
was screaming it wanted to speak.


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