Lust

I must confess the lust that burns inside my heart. It is all-consuming and omnipotent and when object of my affections glides by like a red hot whisper, all of a sudden, I'm aflame.

The yearning in my eyes turns my body and waist, lingering after the direction in which she has disappeared. Sometimes I wonder if I approached her, how I would follow through. But I'm not ready to commit. I can't. Just not able to.

Part of me wants to say, fuck it all. I am in love. The other more rational part says, take it slow, you don't know if she's the right one. Afterall, you had your heart broken by an older and moreunreliable model. But I stop in my tracks, just as I'm ready to go over and introduce myself. She's gone. I was too late.

My precious.