The Cycle

It's happened again.

The stupidity.  The naivety.  The unrealistic hope.
The hope that maybe, this time... I don't know.

Maybe this time I could get my way.  Maybe I wouldn't have been so trusting, so willing.  Maybe he could have been different.  He was the same.
They're all the same.

I held out for something that could never happen.  I hoped the truth (and the truth about me) wouldn't matter.  But the truth always matters and always sets you free.
      I didn't want to be set free, this time.  I wanted to he captivated in the dream world of lies that I had created.  I yearned to live in the denial that I had so artistically formed... maybe part of me is still there.

Maybe that's why it's so hard.

Impulse

Confused and troubled, yet
delighted all at once.
I find myself trapped on the
border of two very
different worlds.

I am enslaved by my own thoughts,
dilemmas.
"There is now easy way,"
I tell myself.

Of course, I'm lying.

Overcome by passion
I give in
to the

impulse.

Not so much as to feel
remorse, yet
enough to know what I
ought not have done.

      Some part of me wishes it never happened.
            Most of me lusts for more.

Hypocritical?

Perhaps. But no more than the likes of you.

Flustered

I'm flustered whenever I think about him.
      It's annoying and wonderful at the same time.
Nobody's ever... I mean, I've never... been so flustered.

All sexy and beautiful.  His game is impeccable.
My self control is being tested, big time.

The message rings loud and clear in my head, but my guts churn and I cant turn away.   I'd swear I've been flying, but my brain's keeping me grounded.

Thanks, brain.
...Seriously.

Damn These Morals

The title speaks for itself.