Delinquent

 

It feels like a full blown affair 

  The way I plaster these words on a page for you; 

Delinquent. Heart pounding at times. 

 Like the rush of being caught-

  Ruptured and gorging out

Heaving and thudding against my cage. 

I don't know how he doesn't notice. 

and I ask myself, 

"Was it always this way?". 

I have turned love over

  and over. 

Each, it's own recipe; 

  Flagrant in it's own tastes, 

    and just what hits the palate. 

I don't know how he doesn't notice. 

While many things, 

  Sometimes we lack the intimacy. 

Sometimes I feel like a placeholder...

and yet...

  I am his entire world. 

Yanking and grabbing at the chains 

   I pull, and cry, 

      and scream.

But I can't go anywhere. 

and No, he won't let me. 

It is my heart 

  That has not died. 

But perhaps, so much of the love 

  from me, 

      to him, 

  instead. 

I am still giving him a chance though, 

  Amidst all this dread. 

As chased I feel, by his demons, 

  Karma thick and demanding...

  Mind always running...

Exhausted every step of the way.

No...

 this is not normally my way. 

but perhaps it is something else entirely...

That steers me elsewhere. 

Things deep and forbidden. 

Things delinquent & kept hidden. 

Things staggering to get labeled. 

Still....

  He doesn't notice, does he? 

The things perhaps you might....