A Beautiful Delerium

What was the feeling I had?
When we'd lie in the grass,
talking about love.
But I never loved you.
I said it was friendship,
but you insisted,
that it was more.
I'll always have the image,
pressuring me to be,
something I wasn't.
You watched as I danced,
under the northern lights,
how would you want to
contain me,
to make me something,
I didn't want to be.
Why did you want to catch me,
to hold me,
to make me feel this guilt,
and never think of letting me free.
What is this feeling that I have?
This daily affliction from yourself.
This guilt, this fear, this imperfection,
you make me this feeling of
being myself.