You can’t fool your own desire. 

It matters not how hard you try. 

You do not want their hands upon your skin. 

They are ugly, grotesque … no matter what they own. 

Their touch is repugnant, and your body will recoil, 

Needing to be obliterated in wine to stomach it. 

Your dreams are not of them. 

They do not make you pulse. 

They are of me … and have been for years. 

I have always known your mind, though you hate it.

I wounded your heart, unwillingly, 

And only I can make it beat fast, healed.

You crave my touch, my kiss, my thrust, 

Though you deny it from obstinacy. 

You always did. 

You could not hide it though you tried, 

Denying yourself for the approval of those who didn’t matter. 

Will you now sell yourself to wretched claws, horned reptiles, 

To prove your disdain for the caress you truly crave? 

You can no longer have my heart, but you may yet take my touch.

Give yourself to me; let your lust free in truth. 

Do not defame yourself with lizards, 

Take what you wanted and feel your own passion return, 

Or corrupt your mind and body with vermin.