EROTICISM IMPRISONED

And this; this thing I feel for you,
This deepest, darkest shade of blue,
Will never come. It will not come,
To anything. Won't be undone.

Such sweet release will not be mine.
I'll not be yours. I will not feel;
Your passion rushing through my veins,
I'll not be touched, be felt, be healed.

So I stay here, punished by you.
I am teased and tormented.
Am I being made to suffer,
For some crime I never did?

Pleasure deprivation.
Absence of elation.
Absolute anti-climax.
Lacking exultation.

These walls feel empty and hollow.
This bed is just a void.
My desire for such escape,
Has almost been destroyed.

For all the joy of 'love' to me,
You haven't even given;
This eroticism remains,
Within its aching prison.

1 November 2002