Scent of Pain

Hours after, your scent lingering in my nostrils
And on my skin, I am wondering . . . why.
Why did I fall for someone who’s not ready to love again?
Why did I remain true to my mantra:
“Scared money or a frightened heart never wins,”
And allow myself to fall for you?
Why did I WILLINGLY open my heart and
Stuff you deep within it, knowing you had purchased
Deadbolts for the rooms in yours?

Alas, I am where I did not want to be.
Perched on the precipice of hurt, understanding that
You not only require, but very much DESERVE your freedom.
Sweet man, I don’t want to imprison you.
I just want to love you. I want to see you realize your dreams.

Let me be the light in your day, the hearth in your night.
Allow me the honor of appreciating you for you.
Let me trust you with my emotions and mind
As I trust you with my physical self.
Run your race, sweet champion, and let me
Cheer from the sideline, wipe the sweat from
Your brow, cool your throat with water.

Your varied taste in women.
Shape, color, size is no challenge for you.
All women are beautiful to you and although you tell me
I am the ONE on whom you impart your sinful fragrance,
I can’t help but think there must be others who are as
Addicted to it as I find myself.
Small gestures cause me to think there’s a tidbit of love.
A warmth I feel from you, but, you guard it closely
And even if there is a tiny spark, can you admit
It even to yourself? Or, do you fear you may lose
All you fight desperately to regain from previous loves.

If I stay near you, my friend, my lover, my love,
I will be hurt. If I let go now, cold turkey, clean break,
Perhaps I can endure the pricking pain of love lost.
Tell myself it’s for my own good.
Because, my warm and inviting man, if I
See, touch or smell you, it merely intensifies my addiction.
I’ll fall deeper still and the pricks will become great
Spears cast through my breast and out the other side.
Impaled, a bleeding, quivering puddle of loveless flesh.

Now, while I’m at the beginning of infatuation.
Here, at the doorstep of my caring, I am mired in quick drying
Concrete. I must step out. I must remove myself
From pending disaster. I must flee before the substance sets,
And I am cast over the cliff, weighted by the ease of my love for you
Into a deep, deep watery grave of broken hearted stupidity.

Waiting for your heart to heal, I wonder if you
Keep me somewhere in its depths. When the scar
Tissue forms, will it consume me? Do you keep me
External, away from your vulnerable tissue?
Am I just an occasional pleasure outing? An escape?

I am more than a vacation cottage. I am that
Sprawling villa, that fragrant garden. Could I be that
Place you dream of? A place with many rooms
Who’s laughter and peace you long for when you’re away.