Longing and Loathing

She laughed. As I strolled through the park taking notice of the overcast sky, my feet making dying leaves crackle on the path's cement, I tried to force her from my mind. That smile, that intoxicating look, smouldering like coals in her deep brown eyes. It gave me pause for but a moment, seeing her, feeling a remembered touch from the night before, knowing that tonight she would touch me again.

This wasnt good for me. I knew it as well as her, if she didnt know it better. Control left me in her presence, stealing away like a theaf in the night, leaving me destitute and vulnerable, longing for and loathing this sin. She wanted me, but only because I was like butter in her fingers, maliable, soft. I was hers.... and she liked it.

Crystal tears fell from the laden heavens. Drops small yet cold serenading my hair, forming moving jewels on my skin. The path would soon be wet, as would be my clothes if I did not make haste. The afternoon was ominous, the sky bleak and unforging, knowing not mercy in its wet vengence upon the darkening world.

Shades of subtle night settled upon me. My path became treacherous, the leaves now slippery and sodden beneath my feet. I was still moving a little too slow to keep from a thorough soking, but to me it mattered little. It was to her that my path lay. Ever ahead, knowing in my mind, feeling, understanding yet blind. To her I was headed, and she would have my clothes anyway, removing the thin veil of a useless cloak, making me naked once more before her.

Why do I do this?