I’m aware. 


It must be a form of self punishment how quickly daydreams of bare bodies covered in sweat beneath a ceiling fan on a warm spring evening become torturous desires of wanting more than just a warm body and endless gasps of air. 
I am aware of realities. 
I am aware. 
It was sweet and innocent at first. 
Speaking with my mother she says “my child you are playing with fire…” 
But what’s a little heat against skin going to really do? 
I need the warmth. 
I wanna feel something, again. 
For once after so many years. 
So I’ll get burned. 
Sometimes it’s worth the risk. 
Not necessarily the person. 
But just to know you’re somewhat alive. 
At least, as far as your heart goes

Written April 13,2016 

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