Standing there untouched
and growing cold
is the way I planned it to be
but then he lingered upon my knee.
A gaze full of meaning
of that thing of which we are both guilty of
stroke the depths of every chamber of my heart,
the ones I wanted to keep empty and pure.
They have been filled with anger, sadness, fear
whirling together,
then nervousness gathered the hope which had been
lying there with each and every
unfulfilled wish of happiness.
The urge to get back at
tracing patterns along his skin
was then broken by
uncertainty, cowardness, cold and hard facts.
And I had found my weak hand holding my dizzy head
and staring.
