I wish I did not crave
tracing the tattoo on your arm.
I wish the grey at your temples
did not make me want to
run my fingers through your hair.
I wish I could unfeel the trails
your fingertips burnt onto my skin.
I wish your smile
did not reach your eyes.
I wish the willingness
to throw my life away
for this insane infatuation
was not plainly written on my face.
You were my poison,
you still are my folly.
© november child
photo credit: source unknown