Benjamin Piers

The thought of you,

The mere thought of you.

How come one small inconvenient speck of dust

fiercely pulls me apart

To a point of no return.

I’ve given too much already,

haven’t I?

What would be the point of letting go of something this inconceivably desirable.

I cannot simply resist what engulfs my technical brain.

I try,

ever so reluctantly,

to wander away from the memories of your silk skin.

But,

I am enamored by its complexity.

like a file cabinet filled with secrets I wish to know.

To think,

I’d allow every paper hidden within those four locked walls to slit my sheltered skin so that a mark is left in your name.

What was once a small inconvenient speck of dust now absorbs my mind.

With the mere thought of you.