75% autobiographical

Summer burned with the memory of you,

I imagined you on the green tiles of the halls,

And was taunted everywhere by my memories,

So that I sickened when longing bubbled up inside me.

And that day was coloured by gentle sunlight

Looking down kindly on that room,

Just not as gentle, as invisible as your hands around my back.

It must have been that this memory is coloured

By a blissful, gentle gold.

That beautiful moment that I wanted to last.

For my liking too quickly it passed.

Even though for me, it felt like it lasted a long time,

As time and moments stopped passing by for us.

Except it was only an illusion of Affection

as we stood in her bubble and outside, shapes were distorted

Fine, I admit it: I'm just a teenager who doesn't know her way

In this intricate labyrinth of love and infatuation is a trap,

Beckoning me into her arms, only to clamp down tightly.

So that my heart struggles in her grasp, blood singing sweetly.

Simultaneously screaming silent pleas of petition.

While Reason looks on with my head, both with contempt.

But don't they know that emotion has no rhythm?

I found that out while I was trying to dissect this feeling,

Word by word, action by action and yet could not.

[I shouldn't miss you so much, but I do.

I shouldn't want you to be here but I'm selfish like that.

And we didn't really know each other at all.

Call me crazy. I'm just infatuated.]

I feel like diving and disappearing into a world of logic,

Clinging to reason yet my feet are wet with Emotion.

Even as I melt, weak acid dissolving skin as I read,

And fear after fear dissipates.

Man cannot hold what he cannot understand

I will never hold what I cannot see any reason for.

I feel like clinging and nurturing this little petal.

I want to hold you again, or make you laugh.

See your smile and trace it with my mouth.

My eyes are just bright with dewy affection,

Sunlight is obscuring my vision so I only see

Sundappled illusions and I know,

I know that you shouldn't be put on a pedestal.

[I wanted and still want so much to be your friend,

But something tells me that it won't happen.

I've accepted it, fine. I am so scared of being boring,

Of not being enough.]

Skin constructed out of fears, dark with grime,

So that when your words fall like new honey,

The grime seems to be almost scared away.

But I am only an infant, her eyes bright with curiosity

Her hands out for guidance still, pleading someone to lead her.

Even these hands falter sometimes as she moves ungainly

So don't look at me with pity, I cry loudly at that,

Just smile gently at me and say you understand.

I'm sure that you've been here before.

And that soon, my feet will find land.

I realise that this is the folly of Obssession with Affection.

Only a little bud still cowering from the sunlight.

Ready to receive, ready to give, ready to take on the world, ready to hide.

The bud is still opening, soon to be a flower.

Eyes looking ahead at the now approaching peak of land,

Hope is being brandished like a flag,

And it is as bright as the grin that spreads across my mouth.

My feet have finally found shore.