…like a wound inflicted by an enemy, in distaste, not in haste but slowly, as if the longer the torture, better the torment.
Why should I be trapped such? Shall peace never be mine again? Must I spoil something that doesn’t even exist yet?
If laughter I could have and a little warmth perhaps I shall be heartened. But is this too fantastical?
And what if it is? Would you rather I lost my sanity looking over barriers just to catch a glimpse of the bridge of a nose or the top of a head? Must I constantly filter out his voice from all the noise and down the temptation to look his way?
All it really takes to keep my day ticking is a glance, an acknowledgement, of knowing that he sees me. Does that make me desperate or just plain pathetic?
If only he knew. .. how he stabs me all day long.