If I could lose myself in someone else's deep, kind eyes.
If another's smile could unnerve me and set me ablaze.
If he asked me questions in search of my being instead of a focused inquisition of my mind.
If his poetry were inspired by love and searching and truth.
Then perhaps I could overcome my visceral reaction to your presence.
If he confessed his longing to know me over his desire to touch me.
Then maybe I would no longer have the compulsion to caress your face, know your heart, feel your soul.
How dare you smile that arrogant smirk when I am at my most vulnerable!
I suppose you laugh because you were never compelled by me.
Or maybe you are.
How would I know?
I think you're better at pretending than I am.