Secret

Dark, brooding, flippant
Casual, smiling, inviting—
My pseudo Sassoon.

Whispers, touches, kisses
They are not enough—
Never enough.

I want all of you—
To unravel the secret
That you are.

Yet I am afraid—
The closer I am the more
I’m compelled to run.

That you are not who
I think you are—
That I would slip.

In wanting all of you
I find that I—
I want nothing of you.

Pain in pleasure,
Pleasure in pain—
All is ephemeral.

Stay unraveled—
Remain the secret
That you are.

Written 29/01/06, mid-afternoon