I've got to purge myself of this obsession
This affection
For you.
Birth the child that never was
In waves of warm blood and agony
Rip its umbilicus from my heart
Where you planted it in too-fertile soil
Ever so delicately
With your long-lashed autumnal eyes,
Your perfect smile,
Your passion and gentleness,
You.
I loved you before I touched you,
Was worse for the wear after,
Wanting every lover to be you, your calloused hands on me.
In a crowd, a thousand possibilities of you.
If you had wanted me, taken me to your breast
And loved me straightaway,
Could that potent elixir have cured my heart,
Preventative medicine
For the growth, benign or malignant,
That now overshadows it?
I feel it writhing in my chest, in my soul.
It's alive.
Alive.