She came over and we took a stroll in the park.
It was then that she revealed
she was growing cold
and required my warmth.
We held hands.
Cuddled on the couch listening to Port O’Brien.
She said that she liked my scent.
She said she just felt…
safe, comfortable,
and at ease.

But then she stressed that she felt

NO ROMANTIC AFFECTION.

I thought I was growing on her.
She said she won’t date me.
She said she won’t be a stranger either.

Intimate embrace.

She, in my arms, a vision of heaven.
She stokes my flame.
Piques my curiosity.
Yet, actually torments me?
My heart, her plaything.
And I’m too stupid to know any better.
So I let her.
Just for the attention.
Because I need the attention.

I tried to get her to stay.
And she did wrestle with the notion.
Ultimately, she left,
but not before
taking my hand,
kissing my thumb,
and saying,
“Next time.”

Is she inescapable for me?
From the moment I laid eyes on,
and the angels played those trumpets,
I knew one thing:

The promise of a bright future.
But it’s just a promise, and I break them all the time.
So why shouldn’t the Gods?