Frieght Train

 

It started with an obsession, which would remain our up-ending secret. 

For a while it dimmed, but never lost flame, ornate and still a flickering light in the window sill. 

At last it progressed into a confession. 

Words spoken out loud, met by the understanding of someone who knows our story 

And knows it well. 

Finally, 

It would transform into transgression. 

  Because he is better than I am being. 

  His loyalty, til death.

  As I had once promised you...

But you didn't believe me, and you fought yourself for wanting it, and I can't say I blame you anymore...

No, because I think I understand. 

The cycle would repeat. 

  Obsession. 

  Confession. 

  Transgression. 

But currently, I am sick to death of the words over you, 

Telling myself no more, but they wheel in like a frieght train. 

Sick in mind, body. and spirit, 

  and attempting to hide it... 

The War of Soul, and chest, and hearts

   That's fights over you. 

He has been looking at me more longingly since. 

  Asking if I am okay. 

Perhaps seeing my gaze much farther beyond the distant, 

Looking slightly suspect but with such a poker face, and one of compassion. 

I wonder if he can tell, 

As his arms reach over my body tucked away, 

As his kisses reach for mine, eyes examining me. 

As I question everything we are doing. 

It was always a Tare. 

  and at this juncture, it isn't right. 

The guilt is slow, sunken, and emerging. 

He has done everything possible to prove his love for me. 

A long four years of brutal endurance, and finally as the change is rapid, and pace quickening, 

My body is sunken, 

  By long and enduring thoughts of you,

  Your absence. What it means, and Why I care so much.